Control Room
by ClariceCarter
Summary: Harry and Draco find themselves entering the same Room of Requirements... but for very different purposes. One, to lose control, and one, to gain it all. Please R&R!  AUTHORS NOTE: No I don't own Harry Potter, Or Draco Malfoy. JK ROWLING does. *sigh*
1. Chapter 1

_**Control Room**_

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!" _ the ice cold voice screamed as its peals of merciless laughter blended into the electric neon green fog. Harry Potter awoke with a start, his heart racing, scar splitting, doused in a cold sweat. He blinked rapidly, trying to erase the echoes of the nightmare dancing in his mind, as he reached blindly for his glasses.

"Here," said a voice coming from the fuzzed out darkness. Harry felt the cool metal frames of his glasses being pressed into his palm. He gently adjusted the lenses onto his face, and looked up to see the gangly, speckled red head he called his best friend.

"Thanks Ron," Harry muttered, still trying to shake off his latest night terror.

"Are… are you okay, mate?" Ron asked nervously, looking down into his lap, "You, um… well you were kind of shouting….a bit…"

_Of course, _Harry thought grimly to himself. As if the nightmares themselves weren't bad enough, he had to suffer the embarrassment of unconsciously acting them out for whomever was near. What had he done this time? Screamed, like the little girl, looking into the face of the scarlet eyed monster? Begged, like the mother, pleading as her very last tears dripped from her face? Fought, like the father, swearing to protect his family, even when he knew all hope was lost? Or had he been the voice of evil incarnate himself, laughing, as with a swish of his wand, the room erupted into emerald flames, and the cries of his victims were no more….?

"I'm fine," said Harry hastily, "Just a bad dream, that's all."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, looking up at him, " I mean you look kinda pale and shook up.."

"I'm fine," Harry stated again, in a tone which clearly read 'Drop it'.

"I dunno, I mean, maybe you should go talk to Hermione, or McGonagall, I'd be sh-"

"I SAID I'M FINE RON!" Harry snapped violently, "Jeez, just bugger off, will you?"

Harry watched as Ron's eyes clouded over with hurt. He immediately regretted lashing out at his best friend, Ron had only been trying to help.

"Ron, I…. I mean…" Harry stuttered, trying to find the right words to apologize. Ron made no attempt to break the awkward tension. "Right, I mean… what I'm trying to say is… I'm… going for a walk." Harry finished lamely. Ron simply stared a moment longer, then shook his head, as he turned to settle back into his own four poster.

"Right…" Harry muttered. He really could see no other option but to go for a walk now, so he fished around for his invisibility cloak and his Marauders Map, the crept quietly out of the dormitory. He promised himself that he would give Ron a proper apology when he returned…

As Harry paced the long dark hallways of Hogwarts, he felt an overwhelming wave of stress grab hold of his sense of being. The echoes of icy laughter and terrified screams were still ringing in his ears. Why did _he_ have to deal with this, all alone? Sure, Ron and Hermione were always supportive of him, but they could never _really_ understand the pressure he was under… they never had to endure the screams that haunted his dreams, and see the faces of those who looked to him to be a beacon of hope, though he knew no more what to do than they did. He was tired of holding so much responsibility in his hands… He didn't choose this! It chose him! Sometimes he wished he could just find a sense of freedom, that for once, someone else would have to be in control… It was as this thought entered his mind, he suddenly noticed to door to the Room of Requirement appearing before his eyes.

Draco Malfoy had never felt like this in his life. This absurd need to hide away from the world, this fear of showing his face… he was absolutely miserable. He paced the floor of the ever changing Room of Requirement, only pausing to take notice of his own reflection in the dirty glass of an antique mirror. His normally sleek blonde hair had begun to look stringy and faded… his expensive black silk clothing had begun to look care-worn at the seams (though none but he would ever notice this). And his eyes… the looked so… _dead_. No longer did they carry a malicious glint of haughty superiority, the silver-blue orbs looked clouded with fear and faded with sadness.

How could he have been given this task? Killing the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, it was impossible! He was only a child, really. None of the senior Death Eaters had ever accomplished this goal, though many had tried… Why, even the Dark Lord himself hadn't defeated him! So how could they ever expect Draco to succeed?

"_They don't,"_ whispered the nasty voice inside his mind, "_They __want_ _you to fail."_

Draco shuddered at the thought of failure. His father was already locked away in a crumbling stone cell in Azkaban Prison… his family was looking to him to restore their honor before the Dark Lord. He just didn't know how. He hated admitting it, but he was…afraid.

"_Coward,"_ the voice hissed again, "_You're a coward."_

"NO!" Draco screamed, slamming his fists against the mirror, cracking its surface, " I AM NOT A COWARD!"

He forced himself to look back at his reflection… this pathetic mess wasn't even a shadow of the man he knew himself to be. He was the Prince of Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, a _Malfoy_ for gods sake! He was tired of letting himself fall apart at the seams, while the rest of the world puppeteered him to their needs. The name of Malfoy used to command the respect of all others, and yet, here he was wearing it as a mask of shame... well no more. He would demand the respect that was his birthright to own. He needed to be…

"I need to be in control. I _will_ be in control." Draco hissed, as his face set in determination.

No sooner that these thoughts entered his mind, did he hear the door to the Room of Requirement creaking open.

"_What…?"_ Draco muttered to himself… how could anyone else be gaining entry to the Room of Requirement? As far as Draco understood, the Room was supposed to be suited to _his_ needs, and his alone. As he glanced around, trying to identify the new intruder, he became suddenly furious that the likes of common filth were being permitted to infiltrate his domain… he had just reached for his wand, when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a swish of silvery fabric being tossed aside, to reveal his emerald-eyed nemesis.

"_Potter…?"_ Draco thought to himself, a small jolt of panic rushing through him, "_But how? Why?"_

Being stuck in a room with Harry Potter had never been exactly _beneficial_ to Draco. Every encounter with the Golden Boy had led to curses, wounds, humiliation, and a god awful rush of _feelings_ that he refused to confront… which usually let to hours locked in small rooms finding other means of escape ( which of course only added to his humiliation). He was sick and tired of Potter having this kind of control on him… Draco paused in thought, as an epiphany hit him like lightening. His very last thoughts before the door to the room opened, danced once more through his mind.

"_I need to be in control…I will be in control…"_

A malicious grin worked its way across Draco's thin face, as a wicked flame ignited in his silver-blue orbs once more…..

He knew why Potter was here.

_**AUTHORS NOTE:** _Oh dear me. My first fanfiction, and I decide to take on the wonderful world of DRARRY! It's like I'm begging to be shot or something! Anyways, please read and review, I would love to hear your criticism, good, bad, or mildly unattractive! I hope to have this updated by the end of the week... haha we shall see, we shall see... No I don't own these lovely fellas... as much as I wish I did... they belong to Queen Rowling. R&R! Love, love~Johnni


	2. Chapter 2

_**Control Room-Part Two**_

Harry glanced around the halls cautiously before he slowly approached the ornate door to the Room of Requirement. His brows furrowed in confusion as he grasped the giant brass knob… for the life of him, he couldn't recall thinking of anything that the room could supply to him. As he peeked his head around the corner of the doorway, he paused suddenly… were those voices he was hearing? _'No stupid,'_ he thought to himself, _'It's the middle of the night, you're alone. No one else would be in here… it's your room now.'_ Of course, he still didn't know exactly what _his room_ entailed.

He stepped through the arch to reveal a monstrous room filled with…. Seemingly nothing. Tattered curtains dangled themselves from an endless ceiling, where sparkling dust motes danced down in an endless ballet, like snow. In a far corner, an antique mirror stood, in a majestic beauty, aside from the web-shaped crack on its surface… as Harry glanced at the mirror, a shard fell and shattered into a thousand sparkling diamonds on the dusty stone floor. Stone columns were scattered across the room in a kind of haphazard labyrinth, stretching on and on into the darkness. Harry gasped as he took in the sight; he had never seen the room present itself quite like this. He began to remove his invisibility cloak, but stopped suddenly…. He thought he had heard a shuffling sound in the corner, and a hissing… like a _whisper? 'No stupid, you're just being paranoid... those stupid dreams have you hearing things everywhere…' _Harry shook his head and reached again for his cloak, pulling it off with a flourish, watching the fabric swish like fluid silver through the air. He still had no idea why the room had opened to him, but he could not deny that it was truly magical. He had just begun to feel himself relaxing into the spacious atmosphere, when suddenly, from the darkness, a voice screamed out:

"_OBSCURO! INCARCEROUS!"_

Harry barely had time to register what was happening before his vision suddenly was lost to darkness, and he felt his arms and legs being bound together with thick ropes. He struggled against his bonds uselessly, wishing he'd had the sense to be carrying his wand, instead of leaving it in his back pocket like he always did.

"_Damn!" _ he hissed angrily. He felt so stupid for having allowed himself to be trapped under such bad circumstances. Suddenly the voice of his old professor came ringing loudly through his mind '_Remember… CONSTANT VIGILANCE!'. _ Well, so much for that now. He didn't know what, if anything he could do at this point. Being left blind and paralyzed by an invisible captor didn't leave many opportunities for an escape plan to take place. _'Maybe I can reason with them,' _he thought to himself, '_They could just have been startled and reacted… I did just break into their secret room after all.'_ He decided to try reaching out with the only way he had left to him.

"Hello…?" he called out into the darkness, feeling completely stupid as he heard his voice bouncing off the walls and ceiling around him; _hello….hello…..hello….._ . His voice rang off the walls for what seemed like forever, Harry cleared his throat once more, preparing to call out again when he heard a peal of malicious laughter coming softly from behind him, its echoes joining his own in a waltz across the room.

"Well, if it isn't everyone's favorite _Golden Boy,_ once again sticking his nose everywhere _but_ where it belongs. Shouldn't you be off championing some filthy blood traitor?" the voice sneered, its presence coming closer with each word.

"_Malfoy…?"_ Harry sputtered, his voice laced with a hint of panic, "Look, Malfoy, I didn't mean to enter your room, I was just going for a walk an-"

"Save it, Potter," Malfoy spat. Harry shifted uncomfortably… Malfoy's voice was much too close for comfort at this point. He hated not being able to see the danger… or move his arms for that matter. "No one needs 150 words on why the _Golden Boy_ once again feels entitled to everything his little orphan heart desires. Heard it all before, it gets _old."_

"Seriously Malfoy, let me go," Harry demanded, "I didn't mean to enter your stupid room, I was just going for a walk and the door opened for me…. I don't know why it let me in, okay?"

Malfoy laughed softly again, as Harry struggled against the ropes. He had never dreamed that he would get an opportunity as perfect as this to humiliate Potter, and serve his own neglected desires. He circled the raven-haired boy, watching his every useless move, much like a snake hunting its prey, daring himself to inch closer and closer, without losing his control and consuming the boy.

"Oh Potter, once again you prove how truly useless you are. Always blundering into situations, without knowing _anything…_ how many times has that been useful to you?" Draco's sneer grew more pronounced as his words filled with venom. "Don't worry though, I'm sure your little, _dog_ didn't mind making such an honorable sacrifice for your stupidity."

"SHUT UP, MALFOY!" Harry snarled, angrily. He was furious that anyone, particularly a scumbag like Malfoy, would take a cheap shot at his late godfather. He swore to himself, as soon as he broke his bonds, he would make that little weasel pay.

"Oh, _not _very nice, are we Potter?" Draco leered, "And here I was, thinking this was a wonderful opportunity for us to learn to _understand_ one another… but it seems our time could be put to better use, like teaching you some…_manners._" he leaned in to whisper into Harry's ear, "_Well, I think that can still be arranged_."

Harry shivered, as he suddenly felt Malfoy's hot breath tickling his ear. He grew evermore uneasy with the hidden implications in Malfoy's words and actions, and it infuriated him that he still could not see. He had been trying to free himself by screaming '_releashio, releashio, releashio' _in his mind, praying that just once, he could be successful with a nonverbal spell, but realizing that his efforts were futile. He was Malfoy's prisoner, whether he liked it or not.

"You see Potter, I actually do know why you're here. _Exactly _why you are here." Draco continued in his flawless silken voice. He leaned in once more to whisper into Harry's other ear. "_Curious?_"

'_What the hell is he playing at?_' Harry thought to himself, his mind growing thick with confusion, worry and distraction for having Malfoy so close to him… it seemed to him that if Malfoy had wanted to curse him, he would have gotten it over with by now, and yet, here he was doing what could only be described as _teasing_ him! Playing stupid, childish guessing games to grab his attention; Harry wasn't sure what to make of it all. As desperately as he wished for this all to come to a screeching halt, something about the playful whispering dancing inside his ears made the games seem a bit…intriguing. _'No!' _Harry snapped at himself, _'Pull yourself together and get the hell out of this!' _ Harry again shook his head, trying to shake off the war plaguing his mind.

"Okay, fine. I'll bite," Harry said, pulling his best façade of boredom, "Why?"

"Oh come now Potter, disinterest will serve you no favors, here. Why would I share my little," Draco leaned toward his captive again, so that his breath would sweep the back of his neck, "_secrets…. _With someone who doesn't care? Seems like an awful waste, doesn't it?"

"_Damn it, Malfoy!_" Harry hissed, jumping awkwardly in his bonds, as he was once again caressed with Draco's words, "Give it up, will you? If you were going to attack me, you'd have done it by now, this is getting pathetic. Are you ever going to bother proving your point, or are you too much of a _coward_?"

Draco froze, his pompous demeanor shattered momentarily, as Harry's words echoed through the room and in his own thoughts. '_coward….coward…..coward'_

"_Coward," _the voice in his mind hissed once more, "_You're a coward!"_

_"ENOUGH!" _ Draco screamed, more at the echoing voices than anything else. He lashed out and slapped Harry across the face, hard, as a raw fury coursed through him. Harry remained perfectly still and silent, as though nothing had happened. He heard Malfoy's footsteps retreating, though he still could not see where…Harry had never thought that his words would cut the pompous ass so deep.

Malfoy found himself shaking with rage and embarrassment as he stormed away from Harry, once again stalking the darkness as he tried to regain his composure. Once more he caught his reflection in the shattered glass of the antique mirror. Once more he was forced to look at his stringy blonde hair, care-worn clothing and his sallow skin. Once more he forced himself to look into his eyes, only this time, they were no longer the dead, glassy orbs he had faced before. This time, they were globes of flaming ice, sparks of determination and power bursting throughout.

"_Enough," _Draco hissed to his reflection, "_This is it, this is all that matters. You are NOT a coward. Either take control of your life, or live as a pathetic puppet for the rest of eternity. Grow the hell up!"_

His jaw set as he looked back towards his captive, still struggling uselessly against his bonds. What a pathetic disgrace to the name of wizard, he couldn't even manage to escape a few simple ropes! _'And he dared to call __me__ a coward?" _Draco thought smugly to himself, "_Ha! He's an absolute imbecile. Pathetic.' _

As Draco sauntered back towards Potter, he felt himself regaining his power and control over the situation. He was determined, more than ever, to put to rest the nasty voices that haunted his thoughts, and to prove exactly what it meant to bear the name of Malfoy. His customary sneer returned to its proper place, and his eyes narrowed in fixation on his captive.

"So, tell me Potter, has your pathetic little brain managed to figure out the reason for your being here?" Draco was proud to note the smugness that intensified his voice, "Or are you still waiting for someone else to hand you the answers, like always?"

"Take off my blindfold." Harry demanded, ignoring Malfoy's taunting.

"Oh no, Potter, not until we've… _established _a few things." Malfoy let the words pour from his mouth slowly, there was no mistaking the poison laced in each delicate sound. "I suppose this will be more efficient if I just _explain _things to you. Pity, I had hoped that you might actually be smarter than you looked."

Harry glared from behind his blindfold, not even knowing if he was facing in the right direction. '_Stupid git,' _He thought to himself. His face still stung from Malfoy's lashing.

"You see, you are here for quite a wonderful reason, Potter. At least, that's how I see it. We both know how the room works, I assume?"

"Yes," Harry spat, "It provides the occupant with what they need, whatever they need. That still doesn't explain why I'm here, it's not like you _need_ me." Harry cringed a little at his last words… why would it bother him that Malfoy wouldn't need him?

"Well I'm glad that you've at least come to understand that much, you aren't entirely remedial," Malfoy drawled, sarcastically, "For you to be able to enter _my _Room, it would only make sense to say that you were here because of something that _I _need. Can you think of what that might entail…?"

"No," Harry said, without pausing to think of what Malfoy was implying, "A human punching bag, obviously, but that could have been anyone," he finished, a bitter undertone lacing his words.

"_Could have been anyone…"_ Draco repeated, thoughtfully, "And yet, it was you who came through the door. No Potter, I need _much_ more than a punching bag out of you. You see, I came to this room for one reason, and one alone; _I want control."_

Harry's last thoughts before entering the room came racing through his mind, as realization hit him, with enough force to knock the breath out of him.

"_I wish, just once, someone else would have to take control. I don't want to be in control…"_

"No!" Harry yelped, panicking as he felt a set of strong hands pressing on his shoulders, backing him up, until his back struck the stone wall, " Malfoy, you can't be serious, think about what you're doing… this is mental, don-"

Harry didn't get the chance to finish his pleading, as a pair of thin lips met his is a rough kiss, stubble scraping the jutted angles of his jaw, as he thrashed his head, trying to break out of the hold. Draco's eyes flashed brilliantly as he forced contact on the raven haired boy before him, not caring that he was being struggled against, it only made the experience more thrilling. He snaked his hands up the back of Harry's neck, tangling his fingers in the long dark locks, finally finding the knot of fabric holding the black blindfold across his captive's eyes. He tugged roughly at the thin strip of cloth until it loosened, cascading into a pool of black around Harry's neck, and revealing a pair of brilliant sparkling emeralds, whose expressions danced from fear, to confusion, to desire. Draco had never seen anything more perfect.

Harry's mind had gone completely blank by the time his sight was returned to him… _what the hell was happening? _ He looked into his captors eyes, startled to see that they were no longer their customary steely blue, but black as the night sky. Malfoy's composure was different from how he had ever seen it before; his hair had fallen from its sleek design, so that it framed his narrow face, and danced before his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, and he seemed to be out of breath, as his devious smirk played its way across his lips. He leaned in slowly, never breaking eye contact with Harry, to whisper in his ear;

"_All you have to do is say 'please'."_

Before Harry had time to register what Draco had said, he found himself being shoved back into the wall, trapped in another bruising kiss. Draco held Harry forcefully, with one hand, by the back of his neck, refusing to let him break their contact, while his other hand snaked down Harry's chest, and slipped into his back pocket, causing Harry to jump and yelp. Draco laughed at this reaction, as he slowly removed his hand, pulling something out with it. Harry heard the sound of a wand hitting the floor in the distance.

"_Don't want you cursing me….." _Draco panted, as he leaned in deeper towards his captive.

"_Untie me…" _Harry hissed, fighting for control of himself, refusing to give into Malfoy, who was currently attacking his neck.

"_Kiss me," _Draco growled, moving back towards Harry's lips. Harry again turned his face away, fighting against his desires, though it was becoming difficult to deny how much he truly wanted this. Draco pulled at the back of his hair, forcing him to turn back to face the wild black eyes.

"_Quit fighting this…" _Draco demanded, forcefully, his dark eyes flashing "_lose control… KISS ME, DAMN IT!"_

And Harry did. He felt himself losing the fight, and abandoning all will, to find a strange kind of forbidden freedom. He had never known anything like this in his life. Draco froze in surprise, he hadn't expected Potter to give into him so freely… it sent a rush of electricity through him that jolted him into an insatiable frenzy. His hands moved of their own accord, tangling once more in the jet-black locks, and tearing ruthlessly at the ropes that bound his prisoner.

"_Hurry up," _Harry moaned; his hands were aching to be freed, to tangle themselves into Draco's wild golden locks, and explore his flawless image. At the sound of the desperation in Harry's voice, Draco lost it, abandoning his useless clawing at the ropes, and reaching for his own wand.

"_R-releashio!" _ he managed to stutter, through the haze of his desire. The ropes tore themselves apart and thudded to the stone floor; Harry, finally able to move his body, immediately tangled himself in Draco, twisting his fingers deep into the white-blonde locks, pulling him as close as he possibly could to his captor.

Draco flushed, surprised at how intensely Potter was putting himself into this…. He had never dreamed that it would get this far. Harry began clawing at the buttons on Draco's silk shirt, tearing it off, so that there was nothing separating him from the blonde's bare skin. He then committed himself to attacking Draco's jaw, moving roughly down to his neck, his fingers trailing through the contours of Malfoy's chest. Draco's breath hitched, as the cold fingers traced his ribs, while Harry's tongue snaked out during an assault on his collar bone. '_This is __your__ room, don't you dare let him take over,' _the voice in his head hissed. Draco responded immediately, grasping Harry firmly by the shoulders and slamming him, forcefully, back into the stone wall. '_Make him beg… take control…' _Draco's eyes flashed as he looked over his prize… he just had to finish him. He tore Harry's shirt from his body, fiercely, foregoing the attempt to use the buttons. He then dove, taking Harry's neck with his teeth, his tongue hungrily tasting every inch of the Golden Boy that he could reach. Harry whimpered, wishing for more, anything. Draco thrust his hips forward, closing any space left between them, and Harry moaned, twisting his fingers harder into his captor's hair, thrusting his own hips forward, begging to be closer. Draco's hand snaked down from Harry's shoulder, tracing through his well-defined chest, before coming to rest on the boy's abdomen. Harry grunted, frustrated by this sudden stop.

"_Don't stop, Malfoy," _he groaned, his voice thick with desire, and his eyes clouded with lust.

Draco grinned; he was so close to his goal already. He moved his fingers down Harry's body in painfully slow motions, leaving the raven-haired boy to writhe and bite his lips in wanton frustration. Finally the long, thin fingers came to their destination, however, Draco refused to give his captive what he wanted, simply teasing him through the fabric, which to Harry, suddenly seemed much too thick. He thrust himself forward once more, trying to attain the touch he so desperately needed, to which Draco responded, by removing his hands altogether.

"_N-nn, Malfoy," _Harry hissed, determined to get what it was he desired.

"_What is it Potter," _Draco purred in his ear, flicking his tongue, and nipping the lobe softly with his teeth, "_Tell me what you need."_

"_You know damn good and well what I need," _Harry groaned, his knees shaking as he held tightly to Draco's hair and shoulders, refusing to let him go.

"_You know what to do, Potter," _Draco grinned, wickedly, knowing he was so close to his goal, "_ask me nicely…."_

"_Malfoy!" _Harry yelped, his voice shaking, pleading with his captor.

"_Ask me nicely, Potter." _ This was really too good, Draco thought, he couldn't have ever planned it better; Potter was a sniveling mess before him, lost at a simple touch. He would never forget this moment.

"_Malfoy….. PLEASE, Draco, please!" _Harry screamed, his pleas echoing loudly throughout the stone monstrosity he had been imprisoned in. He couldn't take being teased anymore; he needed Draco to free him from this hell he had locked him in.

Draco had never heard such a beautiful, desperate cry in his life; it almost pained him for what he was to do next. He grabbed Harry's hand, which had been tangled so deeply in his hair, and pulled it free. He dropped Harry's wrist, and then turned away, wordlessly, grabbing his shirt from the floor, and pulling it back on fixing the torn buttons with his wand. He strutted to the back of the room, to once again face himself in the cracked antique mirror, a smirk crossing his lips, as he found his appearance in the dirty glass. His hair was a wild mess, tangled knots framing his thin face, which was speckled with tiny gashes here and there. His clothes, though repaired, were a rumpled mess, no matter how much he tried to flatten them. And his eyes….were completely wild; pitch-black orbs, with silver-blue sparks jetting across the surface, like lightening. But beyond their wild appearance, he saw something in them that had been missing for what felt like eternity; control.

Draco turned back to see Harry, gaping at him questioningly, stuttering, trying to demand answers, though he could not string together two words.

"I got what I wanted," Draco stated simply, "I have control."

He walked past Harry, without uttering another word, no apology, no explanation, just silence. Harry cringed when he heard the loud _thud_ of the heavy wooden door to the Room of Requirement slamming shut behind Draco. The room suddenly seemed less magical, just simply, intimidating, as he stood alone, being swallowed in the deafening silence. He suddenly realized how foolish he must look, his shirt lay in tatters on the stone floor, his glasses askew on the bridge of his nose, his hair in knotted tangles. He stepped across the room, and grabbed his wand from the floor where Draco had thrown it. He repaired his shirt, and grabbed his invisibility cloak from the corner, not bothering to look at his reflection in the broken mirror… he didn't want to see himself like this.

As Harry walked the dark empty hallways of Hogwarts, back to Gryffindor tower, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about everything that had just happened. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, he had been through so much in one evening… but Draco had put it so simply; he had gotten what he'd wanted. He had his control. And Harry had lost his…the whole purpose of the Room admitting him. He had gotten what he wanted too, hadn't he? At last Harry found himself once again stumbling into his four-poster bed, welcoming him once more to slip into his unconscious nightmares. As his emerald eyes stared longingly into the darkness, he realized; he had gotten everything he wanted. He just never knew it would leave him this empty.

Authors Note- Holy Jeeze, my brain feels like the consistancy of squashed Jell-o right now! This story did not end up going in the exact direction that I thought it would, but hey, it's not my story, it's Draco and Harry's... I'm just the one writing it! Thanks to all of you who have read this, it means a ton to me! Please review and let me know what you think of the ending! Love, love~ Johnni


	3. Chapter 3

Control Room- Part Three

"Er….. Harry?"

Harry stirred slightly, making a conscious effort to ignore the voice coming from the corner. He'd been awake for several hours, his mind racing in a whirlwind hurricane of confusion and sadness… regret and anger. He wasn't ready to open his eyes to face the daylight; he couldn't bear the thought of facing… _him_… in the halls. Through the night he had tried rationalizing the events that had happened… how could one night turn his whole life around? He could still feel the touch of hands ghosting across the plains of his body… he could still taste the lips that had so violently taken his own… smell the sweat, the blood, the lust….. he could still see the look of smug content that played across his captors face, the glint in his eyes… he could still hear the horrid _thud _of the solid oak door, sealing him into his stone prison… and he could still feel the emptiness, consuming him, leaving him to nothing but the dark hollows of his own mind.

"Erm… Harry?" Harry again ignored Ron's voice, knowing that eventually he would just give up. He always did. "Harry? Look, I hate to bother you, mate, it's jus', well, 'Mione wanted me to check on you…. You know?" Harry let Ron's words fall into silence. "Umm, 'kay, well, we'll be down in the Great Hall, if you want to come find us…"

Harry lay in his bed, silently, waiting until he heard the clumsy thudding of Ron's feet, and the click of the dormitory door swinging shut. Finally, he willed himself to open his eyes, now that he had been left to his own desolate solitude. It was exceedingly bright in the room, the sun's rays pushed through the window panes at such an angle that a rainbow spectrum bridged its way to the floor. Ron's side of the room was in complete shambles, a horrid clash of burgundy and orange, Gryffindor pennants and Chudley Cannons posters boasting proudly across the walls. Famous witches and wizards waved giddily from the many chocolate frog cards that were scattered on the floor and end tables surrounding Ron's bed. His trunk was stuffed to the brim, Harry had watched Ron attempt to shut it several times, jumping and pounding on it until it finally stuck. A frayed sleeve of a maroon sweater stuck out of the lip of the lid, along with the end of a letter reading : _"Oh I do hope you're okay, darling, you always have a knack of finding trouble…what will I do with you? With many hugs and kisses, I send you all my love, and more. Love, Mum. PS: The holidays are coming so quickly, I hardly know what to do with myself! Be a dear, and invite Harry, I hate the thought of him spending Christmas alone… Mum."_

Mrs. Weasly had always been so kind to Harry, taking it upon herself to be the mother that he had never had. He had always been so grateful to the Weasly family, for giving him a home away from hell, and accepting him, as though he was just another piece of the puzzle that made up their lives. From day one, Ron had always been more than just a best friend to Harry; he had been the brother that he never had. He had stuck by Harry's side through everything, from defeating the giant chess board, so that Harry could stop Quirrel, to chasing down Aragog, despite his horrid fear of spiders (let alone giant spiders)…. It made Harry feel horrid for the way he had been treating him. All Ron had ever done was be there for him, and Harry lashed out at him, and tossed him to the side like he was nothing. Harry realized that he couldn't just avoid everyone in his life, that he had to face the world at some point, whether he liked it or not… he found himself begrudgingly getting dressed, and walking to the Great Hall to apologize to his best friend.

"_Wake him up."_

_ "No, no way, you do it."_

_ "I'm not waking him, are you kidding me? He'll kill me!"_

_ "Oh, and he won't me?"_

_ "Just do it Goyle, quit being a pansy."_

"Or you could both shut up, since it's so very evident that you're both pansies."

Gregory Goyle and Blaise Zabini jumped, as Draco's pompous drawl slithered out from behind the thick, dark curtains surrounding his four-poster bed.

_"_Draco! We didn't know that you were awake already, I wouldn't have let Goyle come and bother you," Goyle scowled at Blaise, he hated always being made the scapegoat. "We were just heading down to the Great Hall, before classes, are you coming?"

Draco stretched out across his bed, considering whether or not he was really that interested in getting up.

"Draco?"

Draco still didn't respond. He liked leaving people hanging in silence; it was always entertaining to see how they reacted. As it was, he couldn't see Zabini or Goyle through the curtains, but he knew they were there, squirming in discomfort. Not being able to watch grew boring though, so he decided to indulge them with a response.

"Go without me, I'll meet you down there in a while. I have some things to take care of," Draco smirked to himself, "Oh, and for god's sake, have Pansy distracted, give her a mirror or something. I'm really not in the mood to deal with that insolent twit…"

Draco waited, listening for them to leave the room, however, they seemed content to stay where they were.

"I said 'go', didn't I? Are you waiting for me to hold your hand or something?"

"Um, no, we'll… just meet you down there, then. I guess," Goyle's deep voice stuttered.

Draco listened as he heard the footsteps of his lackeys trailing away, finally hearing the door click shut. _'About time…'_he thought to himself. He stretched across his bed once more, before reaching out to pull back the curtains of his four-poster bed. The dormitory seemed brighter than usual, which wasn't saying much, considering that it was located somewhere beneath the lake. Small shreds of light pushed through the murky green window panes, casting an eerie glow throughout the dark chilly room. Draco walked to the back of the room, to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of the giant mirror, fixed on the back wall. It was a very ornate mirror, adorned with giant silver serpents, which seemed to whisper their secrets in a menacing language all their own. Draco often wondered if they weren't watching him…

He had to stifle a laugh as he saw his appearance play out before him. He was still wearing the same clothes from the night before, his shirt half tucked and wrinkled, small rips splashing across it. His lips were bright red, bruised and swollen, with a small split on the bottom. A brilliant magenta burned his cheeks, as his mind replayed his wild night. He ran his long, slender fingers through his silver blonde hair, getting caught in the knots and snagging in the tangles throughout it. _'Jeez, Potter, get enough?'_ He grinned smugly at the thought, loving that for once, he had his own private joke, that for once, he was able to laugh and let go of himself. He caught a glimpse of his eyes, sparkling silver-blue orbs, glinting with power, pride, and control. For once, he was content with the man reflected back at him, instead of feeling ashamed at his very existence. A genuine smile played across his lips, as he turned to head for the showers, then face the world in the Great Hall.

Draco took the stairs to the Hall as a kind of catwalk, wearing his best black suit, with a venomous-green tie and sparkling silver cufflinks. His hair had been tamed, and sleeked back off of his face, but for one golden strand, toying in front of his eyes. His eyes attacked passersby with daggers, and his signature sneer leered underneath his perfectly pointed nose. As he strutted into the Hall, the message was unmistakably clear; he was not a man to be messed with. When he arrived at the Slytherin table, a sudden hush fell, his immediate group of "friends" standing to attention, while others suddenly found quick excuses to leave, knowing that their presence was not welcome around blood as respected as Malfoy's. He sat wordlessly, gesturing for Blaise and Goyle to take their places beside him, which they did so, quickly. Pansy Parkinson jumped up from her end of the table, skipping to stand behind Draco, to slither her arms around his neck and purr in his ear;

"Morning, Dray! Love the tie," she tugged at the tie around his neck, in what she clearly perceived as a flirtatious manner. Draco turned to glare venomously at Blaise, who seemed to be suddenly very interested in the bowl of fruit before him.

"Pansy," Draco said, rolling his eyes, before turning to face her. She had deep set, violet eyes, with long, dark feathery lashes which caressed the soft freckles that adorned her pale cheeks. Her nose came to a perfect point, much like his own, and her lips were perfect rose petals. Her heart-shaped face was framed by long black hair which shimmered softly in the light of the sun. She had a long, willowy body, and her clothes hugged her curves like a second skin. She was pretty, he supposed, in her own way…. But she was just so needy! Constantly clinging to his arm and begging for his attention, like a little lost puppy. It annoyed him to no end; he had hoped that she would find some other guy to fawn over and leave him be. "Why aren't you sitting with your friends, I thought that you were talking?"

"Well, yes, but I saw you," Pansy said, grinning from ear to ear, obviously thinking that this was what Draco wanted to hear, "They had to go to class anyways, I figured I'd get to spend some time with you." She fidgeted, swaying from side to side, waiting impatiently for Draco to ask her to sit next to him. He stared past her, fixed his tie, and then turned back around in his seat, to face his plate. Pansy's brow furrowed as she pouted, staring at the back of Draco's head. She had just begun to turn away when his silky voice drawled;

"Well, sit down then." He turned to Goyle, and gestured for him to move out of the way, to make a space for Pansy. Goyle moved, hating that after all these years, he was the one being made to move out of the way for whomever it was Draco felt like entertaining. Pansy immediately filled his space, nuzzling her head against Draco's shoulder and stroking his arm. Draco cringed, but didn't stop her… it looked good for his image to have her doting upon him. He laughed to himself, seeing the looks of the other boys at the table, seeing the jealously that sparked in their eyes, wishing that they were the ones with the beautiful girl at their arm. They were such fools. Her eyes were absolutely lifeless, and she was constantly grinning, which gave her a very vacant look, reflective of the emptiness of her shallow mind. Her beauty, though prominent, was temporary, she would surely be robbed of it with the ticking of the clock. The way she stroked his arm… dainty little fingers which did nothing but tickle the skin, leaving no heat, no pain, no mention that they had actually ever been there… _Certainly not like Potter's hands… _Draco jumped as the thought came to mind.

"W_hat_?" he blurted, caught completely off guard.

"I _know, _right? I was shocked too when I heard it, but they aren't even close to being real!" Pansy responded excitedly; A look of confusion flitted across Draco's face, he hadn't realized that Pansy had been talking all this time. He figured it wasn't anything of importance, but that he should probably make an attempt to bridge the awkward moment.

"Oh, um, right. Shocking."

Pansy smiled, and launched back into her story enthusiastically, gushing about nonsense gossip that she picked up on in the common room or the ladies lavatory. She always did enjoy coveting useless information. Draco nodded his head here and there, feigning interest as he allowed his thoughts to drift elsewhere…

His eyes swept across the room, he found himself glancing to the Gryffindor table, searching for an untidy mop of ebony hair, which he couldn't seem to find. He saw the ginger, and the mudblood sitting side by side, the girl speaking animatedly as the ginger continued to graze over his food, not acknowledging her conversation, until she smacked him across the back of the head, causing him to choke on a piece of bread. They really were the most pathetic lot he had ever seen, he had never been sure why it was that Potter chose to associate with them, they didn't seem particularly useful for anything. Wasn't that the point of having "friends"?

'_Where is he?'_ Draco began twirling his fork in frustration, tired of listening to Pansy's incessant babbling in his ear, while feeling her cold fingers dragging along his flesh.

"Darling," he said, completely cutting her off, in his most charming voice, "You look absolutely exhausted. Why don't you go take a few moments before class to fix your hair or something…."

Pansy's smile faltered momentarily, but she recovered quickly. She was used to Draco sending her off at odd moments to take care of her appearance, in a way, she thought it was sweet. Or, at the very least, it meant that he was looking at her. She widened her smile, sometimes, she felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

"Okay, Dray," she leaned in to kiss his cheek before she left, "Save me a seat?"

Draco didn't respond, but gestured her away with his hand, not even turning to look at her. She walked away grinning, sometimes he was so mysterious. '_Lucky, lucky, lucky me…'_ She hummed to herself the rest of the way to the dormitory, oblivious to the world as she lived in her fantasies.

Draco had become extremely agitated since Pansy had attacked him. It wasn't that he disliked having another human to interact with, or to hold…. She just wasn't what he wanted. And he had grown so accustom to _always _getting what he wanted. He just wasn't quite sure what that was anymore…

"Oh, great, if it isn't the Chosen One, gracing our presence…." Blaise grumbled from his perch at the right of Draco's arm. Draco's head shot up, looking to the doorway to the Great Hall, to see a statuesque, raven-haired boy walking through the entry. He wore an onyx turtleneck sweater, with dark blue jeans and black sneakers. His hair was a wild mop perched atop his slender pointed face. He turned, suddenly, towards Draco, as though he had felt the eyes piercing through his slender body. As he turned, emerald met silver, and Draco nearly gasped as the shock ran through him. Harry's eyes sparkled brilliantly, but not with joy, or laughter like Draco had watched them do from a distance so many times before. Now the emeralds sparkled with a whirlwind of emotion. Pain, anger, jealousy, betrayal and hatred all surged from the green eyes, attacking Draco with their own emotions. He could do nothing but stare back, afraid to blink, afraid to do anything that could destroy this hold… Harry, however, shot him one last look filled with sadness, before he turned his head and walked away, silver orbs following his every step.

"Draco…?" He heard Blaise's voice, as though it were reaching to him through a thick fog, there, but not strong enough to pull him from his fixation. "Draco? What are you staring at?"

Finally Draco managed to snap out of his trance, realizing what a strange scene he had just caused for himself, being caught staring at the Golden Boy.

"I'm not staring, you idiot. There's not even anything to stare _at,"_ Draco snapped viciously at Zabini, "Perhaps _you _could stop with your pathetic gaping at _me, _and find something useful to do with your time? I notice you still haven't bothered finding out what it is about that blood-traitor girl that has Slughorn inviting her to every little attempt at a social life he makes…. But by all means, maybe you were _staring._ It's not like everyone doesn't know how much you fancy the filthy brat. God, this place has really gone to the dogs…." He shot one last filthy look at Zabini, who was currently cowering lower and lower into his seat, as though with enough wishing he might actually disappear, before turning to his fallback accomplice, " C'mon Goyle, we've got a class to get to."

Goyle grinned, looking as though he might burst with pride at finally being Malfoy's first choice. He jumped up enthusiastically, but stopped short, turning back to face Blaise; He finally had the opportunity to do the very thing he had wanted to do since the day he had been shunted to the side for Blaise Zabini. Mustering up all he had, he pulled his very best impression of Malfoy's signature sneer, and gestured to the book bags leaning against the bench, stating:

"We'll expect our books and homework in no less than ten minutes, Zabini. _Don't_ be late. Clear?" He then turned on his heel, to follow his dark leader, never more proud of himself, or more excited by his own nerve and daring.

'_Eat that, Zabini.'_ Things were beginning to look up in the world.

Harry stood frozen in place at the doorway of the Great Hall, captured by a pair of silver orbs that refused to release their hold, orbs that were filled with venom, control, superiority. Their twisted perfection held themselves on an equally perfect face under a shower of golden-white hair, with snow white skin that glowed in comparison to his dark clothing. Every horrid emotion that had been haunting Harry suddenly flooded through him, surging to his emerald eyes, causing him to lose control of his thoughts momentarily. He wanted nothing more than to run to the pale boy, to grab him and demand answers. He wanted to hear him say in his silky voice that he never meant to hurt him, that he had been in that room for more than just to control him, to use him and to toss him aside. He wanted to understand _why_… why never before had he looked at Malfoy as anything but a spineless, pathetic, scum of the earth, and now…after one night, he held his whole world in his piercing silver-dagger gaze. He just wanted to know why…. It hadn't mattered that Draco had cut his bonds away in the Room of Requirement, he was still his captive; finally something broke inside of him, his eyes filled with sorrow as he shook his head and turned away from his captor.

The walk to the Gryffindor table seemed to be so much longer than the mere 20 feet that it was, as he fought his way through the haze of his emotions. He saw his two best friends sitting side by side in their usual spots at the table, Hermione speaking animatedly, as Ron chewed at a bit of toast. Ron looked up and saw Harry walking towards them, he quickly elbowed Hermione who looked affronted, until she looked up and saw Harry, too. She jumped from her seat and ran towards him, her bushy hair waving wildly behind her.

"Harry!" she said, her voice filled with a breathy excitement, "We were beginning to wonder when you were coming, it's so late an-"she stopped her rambling, finally catching a real glimpse at Harry's face, "You look _awful, _my goodness, what happened to you?" She began attacking his face with her fingers, pushing him from side to side and pinching his cheeks between her fingers, she had always had such a mother-hen complex.

"'_Mione, _let him be, you're suffocating the poor bloke!" Ron grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and pulled her off of Harry's face. Hermione blushed, and started wringing her hands nervously.

"Erm… sorry, Harry," she mumbled, taking a step back.

"No problem, Hermione," Harry gave Hermione a reassuring smile, he was used to her over-protective behaviors, it was kind of nice knowing that there was always someone who cared about his well-being. He turned to face Ron, who had been standing beside Hermione, looking down at the floor.

"Er…Ron?" Ron looked up, not sure what to expect from Harry, knowing how unpredictable his mood swings were, "Look, mate, I just wanted to say I'm sorry… you know. I was out of line, and I shouldn't have snapped at you like I did."

Ron smiled as he looked to his best friend, knowing how tough it was to make an apology.

"Yeah, you were pretty bang out of line," he laughed, glad that Harry wasn't still upset.

"Yeah, well, you try waking up to your face, you'd freak too." Harry laughed with Ron, "We're okay, right?"

"Yeah, we're good." Ron clapped Harry on the back, before turning to sit down to his breakfast once more, happily devouring the stack of toast on his plate, two pieces at a time.

Harry sat himself across from Ron and Hermione, next to Dean and Seamus who were arguing about whether or not soccer was comparable to quidditch, an argument they had sustained for five years now. Harry ignored their bickering, and turned instead, to Hermione, who had been staring at him like he was horridly disfigured or something.

"Can I help you, Hermione?"

She stared at him for a moment longer, intently, as though she were trying to read his thoughts. She frowned slightly, before finally accepting that she would have to simply ask him questions.

"Well, I'd like to know what's going on, exactly," she began hesitantly, "Ron told me that you had another nightmare last night, and then you stormed out of the dormitory…"

Ron elbowed her again, and shot her a dirty look, then turned to shrug apologetically at Harry. Harry shrugged back; he was used to Ron telling Hermione everything.

"Well…?" Hermione's voice had become very impatient. She had expected Harry to immediately dive into an explanation for his actions.

"Well what, Hermione?" Harry said exasperatedly, "I had a nightmare, I went for a walk. What is it that you're missing out of that?"

"Where did you go? What was the nightmare about? Why is your face scratched? And don't you dare lie to me, Harry James Potter, I know that there is something going on here, I can see it in your eyes!" She practically screeched her little speech, her face slightly reddened, and her hair looking a little crazier than usual.

"Hermione, honestly, you'd think you'd gone mental. I dreamed about Him. I went for a walk around the castle, I tripped and scratched my face. As for my eyes, I'm tired. Now do you care to comment on my hair being a mess, or are we done gossiping?" Harry said, with a frustrated edge tainting his words.

Hermione didn't respond, but continued to stare at him, as though she could read the answers scrolling across his face. Harry rolled his eyes, and turned to Ron;

"Are you done yet? We're going to be late for class."

"What is our first class, anyways?" Ron mumbled through a mouth full of toast, spraying crumbs across the table.

"Double Potions, with the Slytherins," Hermione said, still staring intently at Harry, who had suddenly lost all color in his face. "Are… you okay, Harry?"

"M'fine…" Harry muttered, his brow furrowed. He'd nearly lost it just catching Draco's eyes in the Great Hall; he was definitely not looking forward to being locked in the dungeons with him all morning…

Harry and Ron set off running to the dungeons, late for class as usual. Hermione had set off twenty minutes earlier than the boys, insisting that she needed to stop off in the library, and wanted to get a seat at the front of the class for their lessons. As much as Harry and Ron mocked her for being a 'Teacher's Pet' (or as Snape had so delicately put it, an "_Insufferable know-it-all")_, Harry had begun to think that maybe they should try following her lead more often. Not that he could convince Ron of it, of course…. The dungeons were incredibly chilly, despite the roaring fireplaces lodged in the walls every few feet, and as they ran, they could see their breath forming tiny clouds of fog before their faces. The chill always seemed worse on double potions days.

Harry and Ron skidded into the large classroom, right in the midst of one of Professor Slughorn's vivacious speeches about his younger days. He stopped short, however, upon seeing Harry, a massive grin spreading across his pudgy face, as though he had just seen his best friend.

"Harry, m'boy! Good to see you, I was beginning to wonder if my best potion-maker was going to show!" He shouted across the room, waddling towards Harry, to shake his hand, completely ignoring Ron. Hermione turned from her desk at the front of the room to scowl at the boys, then flipped her hair from her face impatiently as she turned back to bury her nose in her book. Harry knew that even as frustrated as she was with their tardiness, a part of her had hoped that they wouldn't show, so that she could once more be the shining star of the potions room…. She hated being upstaged by Harry and his book of cheats. Harry looked to the Slytherin side of the classroom, and found a head of sleeked back blonde hair, which seemed to sink lower into the seat at the mention of Harry's name.

"I'm sorry we're late sir, it's just that we were-"

"No apologies, not an apology from you at all my dear boy, I'm simply glad to have you with us," Slughorn said joyfully, clapping Harry on the back before ushering him to take his seat. "Now then, class, where was I…. Oh Yes! Today we shall be working on quite an interesting little potion, very powerful indeed! The Draught of Living Death! So if you'd please turn to page ten of _Advanced Potion Making_, You may begin! You have little over an hour, and I shall look over your potions at the end of class." He waddled himself back to his desk at the front of the room, and settled back into his squashy chair.

Harry pulled out his copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ and began glancing over the instructions. Fortunately, the Prince had left very detailed instructions of his own, or Harry would have failed miserably. His eyes drifted from the text of the page, across the classroom, to look once more at Draco Malfoy. Malfoy's nose was buried in his book, his hands rummaging through his bag to grab his scales and ingredients. He never once looked up, and seemed quite determined not to do so. '_So he's avoiding me now? What has he got to avoid, __he's__ the one who left __me__ there!'_ Harry scowled down at the pages of his book, confused and frustrated at the situation he found himself in.

"Bloody hell, would you look at this thing?" Ron grumbled from his left, "Has the Prince got anything to say about it?"

"Sure," Harry replied, not really listening, crushing his roots for the potion violently, as he mulled over his thoughts. Ron looked at him like he was crazy, but knew better than to push the issue; it really wasn't worth getting lashed at.

Throughout the lesson, Harry continued to look over to Malfoy, determined to catch his eyes again, determined to have some kind of contact with him, at least to settle the turbulent storm raging in his mind. Malfoy, however, continued to be glued to the pages of his book, barely even moving to glance into his cauldron. Ron was having a panic attack next to Harry; his potion, which was supposed to be a pale pink, was a dreadful black gurgling glob at the bottom of his cauldron, and was giving off a horrid sulfuric stench. Even in his haze of emotions, Harry's potion had turned out perfectly, thanks to the Prince's instructions. Professor Slughorn positively beamed as he scooped a vile-full, exclaiming to the class;

"Would you look at this! Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. One drop of this would be enough to bring the entire class to its knees! My lord, you really did inherit your Mother's talent, you brilliant boy!"

There was a small explosion from the front of the room; Hermione, who had slaved relentlessly over her cauldron, and whose hair had grown to ten times its size, was carrying a broken vile, potion dripping to the floor, and a dangerous twitch in her eye as she plastered on a smile.

"Well then… I think that about wraps up this lesson."

The rest of the week went on without anything of much interest happening. Harry had tried desperately to catch Malfoy alone in the hallways, but he was always flanked with Goyle and Zabini, and that stupid Pansy Parkinson trailed them like a lost little puppy. In potions, Draco sat at the furthest end of the Slytherin half of the classroom, refusing to look up during class, and rushing out the door the moment the bell rang. No longer did Harry see him in the Great Hall, smirking amongst his group of followers; as far as meal times went, it seemed as though he had altogether disappeared….

Late at night, after waiting for the other boys in his dormitory to fall asleep, Harry pulled out his Marauder's Map, searching constantly for the dot labeled "Draco Malfoy". Always, it seemed, it was surrounded by other dots, rarely did it stand alone for more than a minute. It seemed strange to Harry, he had always pegged Draco Malfoy as one who would seek constant solitude, not company. Tonight, Harry found Draco's dot standing in the Slytherin Common Room, accompanied by only one other dot…Pansy Parkinson. Harry's stomach dropped, as he saw how close the dots stood to one another. He wondered if they were standing together, side by side, or if they were perhaps cuddled together, Draco sitting like royalty, in an armchair shaped like a throne, as Pansy curled up on his lap, her ear pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He wondered if she had twisted her delicate fingers into the waterfall of Draco's white-gold hair, as she stared up into the pools of blue glass that were his eyes. He wondered if Draco had in turn knotted his long, thin fingers into the dark cascade of her own hair… he wondered if he had leaned down, to whisper meaningless secrets into her ears, letting his voice caress her skin like soft velvet. He wondered if Draco had looked into her beautiful amethyst eyes, only to find himself wishing for emeralds. He wondered if Draco even thought of him at all…

Harry watched the dots on the page, as they stayed unmoving, for nearly an hour. Finally, both dots moved to the right of the common room, towards what was labeled as the girls' dormitories. They paused for a moment longer, before Pansy Parkinson's dot disappeared up the stairs. Harry watched as Draco Malfoy's dot moved back to its original position on the map. It paused momentarily, before moving towards the middle of the room, and back, leaving a trail of footsteps marching back and forth, never ending. Harry fought to stay awake, wishing that Malfoy would just leave the room, that he could finally confront him on his own… but Malfoy's ink and paper footsteps went marching on, and as the hours grew longer, Harry drifted off to sleep, breathing in sync with the pacing of the dot.

Draco sat in a large, regal chair, which was lined with green crushed velvet, across from the roaring fireplace in the Slytherin common room. The moon light fought to shine through the murky windows, leaving soft shimmering streaks of mossy green twisting to the floor. The babble of the common room had died down dramatically in the last hour, as its occupants dwindled away to the comfort of their warm beds. Draco breathed deeply, happy that he would finally have a moment of solitude, to lose himself in his thoughts.

He found himself feeling more confused with life than ever lately…. He had felt so strong and self-assured after the night in the Room of Requirement, and yet, with each passing day, he felt that strength crumble away, he could feel himself being pulled back into his reclusive fearful nature… He felt himself losing everything that he had worked so hard to attain, bit by bit, and it was all because of that worthless, mudblood loving-

"Dray?"

Draco was ripped from his thoughts by a soft musical voice from behind his shoulders. He looked up to see a heart-shaped face, splashed with freckles, dark strands of hair falling in front of violet eyes. Pansy Parkinson gave a shy smile as he glanced into her eyes.

"What are you doing down here, all by yourself?" her soft voice echoed slightly in the room which had otherwise been filled with silence.

"Thinking, I guess." Draco said, still a bit distracted, "Just thinking…"

"Can I sit with you?" Pansy's eyes twinkled with nervousness as she spoke, "I can't sleep, nightmares, you know? It'd be nice to be with someone who cared for a while…"

Draco nodded, and scooted so that Pansy would have room to sit with him on the chair. She stepped forward, hesitantly at first, but proceeded to curl up in his lap, like a kitten, her ear pressed softly against his chest. He looked down into her gentle face, seeing the small smile that graced her rose petal lips. She looked so peaceful.

"What was your dream about?"

Pansy shifted nervously, her face clouded with doubt, as she looked into Draco's eyes.

"You'll think I'm stupid," her voice grew smaller as she continued, "It wasn't even scary, really I guess. Just scary to me…"

"You can tell me anything, Pansy," Draco said, with an honest sincerity in his words, "I'll listen, I promise."

Pansy gave a grateful smile, as she curled closer into Draco.

"I was alone…" Her voice sounded distant and sad, "I woke up and I was alone. I called out for anyone, but no one heard, no one was there. It didn't matter where I ran, or how loud I yelled, It all fell into empty silence. I was alone, I was so scared, and I was alone…"

Her eyes had teared up a little, she laughed and blinked them away as she realized this.

"M'sorry, I'm being dumb…"

"No, you aren't, Pansy… You aren't dumb," Draco stroked the strands of hair off her eyes, "You aren't alone, either. I'm here, aren't I? I promise you, you aren't ever alone."

Her cheeks flushed, a perfect ruby underneath her amethyst eyes. This was the Draco that she knew and loved, the one the rest of the world would never know. This was the Draco she would give her heart and soul to, that she would follow to the ends of the earth; the Draco that promised her that she was never alone….

"I really miss you sometimes, Draco."

Draco laughed a little at this… it made no sense for her to say it, in his mind.

"How can you miss me?" he smirked, "You're with me all the time, Pans."

"Not really," she said honestly, "Not like this. You're always so busy putting on a show for the guys… everyone has forgotten the person you really are. Sometimes I think even you forget, Dray…"

Draco thought about this for a moment, as he stroked her long dark hair. She looked up into his eyes, hesitantly, wondering if she had said the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry, Draco, I know why you do it. I just miss this."

"Pansy… you aren't alone…" Draco paused a moment more, trying to find the right words to say. "I know things haven't been normal lately, trust me. I've been kind of lost. But I promise you… no matter what… I'll always be here for you."

"I know."

They stayed together in the chair, sitting in silence as they watched the fire burn itself into glowing embers. Draco ran his long fingers through Pansy's onyx hair, as he lost himself in peaceful thoughts, watching her as her eyelids fell, and she began slipping into dreams.

"Pans… wake up."

"_Huh?"_ she muttered blearily.

"You're falling asleep, let's get you to your dormitory."

She stretched out across his lap, before standing up, leaning on his strong shoulder for support. He laughed softly, as he took her delicate hand in his own, and walked her across the room to the stairs leading up to the dormitory. He would have led her to her bed, if it hadn't been for the stupid rules banning him from her room. She leaned softly against the doorway, at the foot of the stairs, to look once more into his silver eyes before she fell asleep.

"Dray? Thank you… for everything."

He smiled warmly at her, watching her fight for consciousness.

"Goodnight, Pansy." He leaned in and kissed her softly, before letting her go, "Sweet dreams."

" G'night, Dray."

He stood at the foot of the stairwell, watching her disappear into the shadowy darkness. Everything about her was so fragile, so delicate… as much as he protested to the world that she annoyed him, he cared about her. He loved the way she smiled, with all the warmth of the sun; the way she ran to him, like she hadn't seen him in years, when he had only been gone for five minutes. He loved the way her eyes sparkled, like purple diamonds; the way she laughed; the way she saw the world, as though everything were brand new, like a small child. This was the way things were supposed to be, right? He loved everything about her, everything… but her. He sank back into the armchair, watching the last of the embers from the fire die. He didn't understand _why _he couldn't just be happy, _why_ he was looking for something more….

'_She's nothing like Potter….'_

Draco was jolted from his chair, as though he had been stuck by lightening at the sudden intrusion of this thought. Why? Why did everything he thought about suddenly have to revolve around Harry Potter? Of course she was nothing like him! She was gentle, she was fragile, she was obedient, she was beautiful, she was lovely beyond compare, she was…. She was…. Well, a _girl _for god's sake! She was the one who should make his heart skip, and his stomach flutter. She was the one he should think about night and day, wondering if she thought about him, too. It was her name that should escape his lips in the dead of night. But it wasn't. His thoughts were riddled with images of messy raven hair, and perfect emerald eyes. His dreams were of forbidden passion, of resistance, defiance and strength to match his own… And it was _his_ name which tore from his lips in the dark shadows of night.

Draco felt sick… there had always been moments when he had looked at Potter with small curiosity… but he never had intended to act on them. One night. It took one night, one moment of crazed weakness, one stupid decision to turn his entire world inside out. He felt lost, and angry…. And out of control. He paced the floors of the common room, trying desperately to find an answer, some simple solution that would allow him to walk away from it all. This had all happened because of Harry Potter… because of one stupid small desire…..

It had to end.

Friday morning came, greeted with roaring thunder, dazzling lightening, and raindrops the size of a snitch pelting the windows of Gryffindor tower. Harry woke up, feeling absolutely drained. He had spent most of the night watching Malfoy through the Marauders Map, and had fallen asleep with the map still lying across his chest.

"_Mischief Managed" _he muttered, clearing the map's surface, before folding it up and stowing it back in his trunk. He stretched out lazily, trying to straighten the crick in his neck, and yawned as he grabbed his clothes for the day.

"Get up, Ron." Harry poked the giant lump that was buried under the sheets of Ron Weasly's bed. It didn't budge. Harry poked at it a couple more times, before ripping back the blankets to reveal the sprawled out body of his best friend.

"Ugh, seriously Ron, get dressed, we're going to be late."

"_I don't wanna get up, 'Mione… jus' stay with me here…."_ Ron said groggily. Harry bust up laughing, as he walked away to get dressed. The good thing about Ron, was he never stopped giving him blackmail material, and this was definitely one of the best so far.

Harry returned to the dorms about twenty minutes later; showered, dressed, and still completely exhausted. He found Ron sitting on his bed, already dressed, his ears burning a brilliant crimson.

"Erm… Harry, 'bout this morning," Ron looked nervous and embarrassed, " You aren't going to say anything, right? I mean, I was completely joking, seriously, I'm not that mental…."

"Uh-huh, sure, Ron," Harry grinned maliciously, "Not a word."

Ron muttered darkly under his breath as he and Harry set off together for the Great Hall.

Harry and Ron approached the Gryffindor table, to find Hermione hidden behind a stack of books, her nose buried in the Friday edition of the _Daily Prophet. _ Ron took his usual seat beside her, as Harry sat across from them, next to Seamus and Dean. This morning, Dean was showing photo albums of his favorite soccer stars, in unmoving photos, as Seamus threw a tantrum, saying that soccer was clearly not a sport, there was no action. Harry wondered if they ever grew tired of arguing the same points day after day…

Ron had already filled his plate with a foot-tall stack of pancakes, which he was currently drenching in every syrup flavor on the table. Hermione still hadn't looked up from her newspaper, commenting to herself about the articles under her breath. Harry cleared his throat loudly;

"Good morning, Hermione," he said, peeling back the paper to reveal her face.

"Oh goodness, Harry, you frightened me!" she said, clearly startled by his interruption, "Good morning though, guys. How was your night?" She looked intently at Harry, trying to see if she could find any evidence of a nightmare in his eyes. Harry ignored her searching eyes.

"It was fine, Ron had a really good dream," Harry grinned wickedly, "He couldn't wait to see you this morning, right Ron?"

Ron promptly started chocking on his pancakes, glaring at Harry as he fought for his breath. Hermione looked from Harry to Ron, clearly confused, but decided it would be safer to just ignore what had happened. She folded up her paper, and began taking down the stack of books, placing them each safely in her bag.

"Are you heading to the library again, Hermione? Ron and I will go with you, we really can't be late to potions again this week, Slughorn might start to get upset."

"Oh, um, well… no, Harry." Hermione said hesitantly, "Ron and I have our apparition test this morning, did you forget? We aren't going to potions today…"

Ron looked up guiltily from behind his stack of pancakes, his ears burning again. Harry's stomach dropped, he _had_ forgotten about the apparation skills test. Ron and Hermione were allowed to take it, because they were of age, but Harry wouldn't turn until July…

"Cheer up, mate. Potions won't be that bad, you'll probably be the only one there, Slughorn'll love that. He'll just bore you with stories of the good ol' days." Ron said, trying to make Harry feel better. He was probably right, everyone that Harry knew was of age to take the test, spending a morning with Professor Slughorn wouldn't be that bad, he absolutely adored Harry.

The Golden trio finished their breakfast together, before Ron and Hermione left for their apparition test. Harry wished them both luck, before turning to head to the dungeons. He was actually beginning to look forward to Potions, it would be nice to spend a class free of thoughts, laughing with his professor. He smiled as he turned the corner to enter the large class room… a smile which promptly shattered when he saw the long golden hair of Draco Malfoy.

Draco hated today. It was storming wildly outside the castle, which meant that the Slytherin common room was freezing. He had fallen into a restless sleep in the large armchair across from the empty fireplace, after hours of pacing the floor. His body felt stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position; he groaned as he stretched, pulling his muscles and popping his joints back into place. He looked down at the silver watch which graced his wrist, and jumped as he read the time; _8:47._

"_Damn!" _ he cursed, racing upstairs to his room. He never overslept, and now he was going to be late for his classes, which was infuriating to him. He debated whether or not he should even go, but decided that a detention was probably not the best solution to what was already presenting itself as a lousy day. He quickly threw on a white dress shirt, with his green and silver tie, threw on a pair of black slacks and black dress shoes, ran a brush through his hair and ran out the door. He knew he looked awful, but he didn't have time to change anything. At this point, he would only be 5 minutes early for class.

The Hallways seemed quieter that he was used to, only a few people here and there. _'Where is everyone…?' _ As he ran down the halls, he passed the poster announcing Apparition Lessons. _'Oh right… the exam.' _ All of his friends were of age, but his birthday wasn't until the summer… at least he would probably be the only one in his lessons this morning. It annoyed him, being the youngest person in his group… He turned into the classroom at the furthest end of the dungeons, and settled into a seat at the front of the Room…. He was the only one in the room, aside from Professor Slughorn, who nodded to him from his squashy armchair at the front of the room. Professor Slughorn never had much to say to him, he was under the impression that he didn't like him much. It didn't matter, he was used to it. He pulled out his copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ and pulled out his scales and ingredients, waiting patiently for the lesson to begin. The bell rang, and Slughorn stood up, to announce the lesson.

"Just you today, eh?"

"It would seem so, sir…" Draco said, starting to wish that he had just skipped class.

"Well, let's see," Slughorn thumbed through his own copy of _Advanced Potion Making, _"Well then, there's the…. Uh…"

Suddenly the door to the dungeons flew open, Slughorn looked up, and a beaming smile stretched across his large face.

"I'm so sorry sir, I-"

"Harry, m'boy!" Slughorn shouted joyously, "Good to have you with us!"

Draco's heart sped into overdrive, and his stomach dropped to the floor. He sat frozen in his chair, he hadn't even considered that Harry might be underage… could the situation possibly get worse?

"Well let's see then, now that we have two of you, we have options! I can give you a tricky difficult potion, that you could team up on, or, you can pick your own potions to brew separately." Slughorn smiled.

"Separate." Draco spat, at the same time Harry said;

"Together."

Slughorn paused for a moment, looking at Draco's face, which had turned absolutely murderous, to Harry's eyes, which sparkled with hope. He wasn't quite sure what to do with the situation at hand….

"Well then… how about a little inner-house rivalry? We have a Slytherin and a Gryffindor… pick your poisons, and I will award 50 points to whomever brews me the best potion! You have an hour!' He waddled back to his perch at the front of the room, and flipped through an old photo album, with his pudgy fingers, reminiscing of his younger years.

Draco watched out of the corner of his eyes, as Harry sat down at the seat across the row. He quickly busied himself with finding a potion to brew, determined not to pay any attention to Potter. He found the instructions for a "Hiccupping Solution, which he began to work on begrudgingly, his back turned towards Potter as he mulled over his ingredients. He had just begun to crush his black beetle eyes, when he felt a soft tapping on his shoulder. He turned his head slowly, and found himself nose to nose with his worst fear.

"Can I borrow your scales? It's just I've…well…. I need to talk to you, Draco." Harry's voice quivered a bit, but he didn't break eye contact.

"There's nothing to talk about Potter," Draco spat, fighting the blush threatening to creep to his hollow cheeks, "I've got a potion to brew, quit bothering me." He turned back around in his seat, crushing the eyes with a hurried violence. Harry stood behind him unmoving, staring at the back of his head.

"Dra- Malfoy, don't blow me off like this, you owe me an answer."

Draco was just about to spit a vicious insult at Harry, but Professor Slughorn cut him off before he could deliver.

"Harry, m'boy, is there a problem?" Slughorn's voice boomed across the room, "Or are you just checking out the competition?"

"Oh, no sir, I just needed to borrow an ingredient," Harry stuttered, "I'm good now, I'll sit down."

Draco breathed in deeply after Harry left, clearing his mind of his intoxicating scent. He spent the rest of the hour fumbling over his potion, his face burning as he felt Harry's eyes burning into the back of his head. This was torture. He had to stop these feelings, he knew, but he couldn't help it. It took everything he had not to grab Harry's face, to attack him with everything that he had… he had never wanted anything so badly in his life, but he knew he couldn't. He had a reputation to protect, he couldn't throw it all away for a sick obsession. He hated himself for the war that raged in his head. He really was becoming a coward. He couldn't even face himself.

The rest of the hour passed, Professor Slughorn stepped down from his chair and walked towards Malfoy, who was prodding impatiently at his cauldron, knowing that his potion was not even close to what it was supposed to be. Slughorn's nose crinkled as he stepped into the fog erupting from Draco's cauldron.

"Well… what have we here?"

"A Hiccupping Solution, sir." Draco said, wishing to be anywhere else but the dark dungeons.

"Well, it seems… passable, I suppose." Slughorn frowned slightly as he glanced back into Draco's cauldron. He made a mark on his clipboard, then walked briskly towards Harry. Draco began to pack away his ingredients, and cleared out his cauldron.

"My goodness, Harry, what is that delightful smell?" Slughorn shouted jovially, as he turned to his favorite student.

"My Elixir to Induce Euphoria, sir," Harry said, glumly. Slughorn looked at him curiously, before turning back to look to the cauldron.

"It smells just lovely… you've added a sprig of mint, I take it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ingenious, absolutely ingenious my dear boy," Slughorn boasted proudly, "You really did inherit your mother's knack for potions, that much is very obvious! Fifty points to Gryffindor!"

Harry muttered his thanks, as he packed away his ingredients. Malfoy hadn't looked at him once since shooing him away, it was infuriating! He didn't understand how after everything that had happened, Malfoy could just push him away. Hadn't he thought about him, at least once? Harry shoved his book into his bag forcefully, just as the bell rang, and Slughorn dismissed them. He watched Malfoy run out of the room, without a second glance.

This was it, Harry decided. He was tired of Malfoy avoiding him, not looking him in the eye, barely even speaking to him…. He deserved an answer, and he was going to get it. He grabbed his bag and sped out of the room, determined to catch Malfoy before he entered the Slytherin common room. As he entered the hallway, he saw the head of silver blond hair racing through the corridors, finally, turning into the boys lavatory.

'_This is it! I have him cornered!'_ Harry thought to himself. He had never been more determined to get answers from someone in his life. He raced up the corridors, and turned quickly into the lavatory, his heart pounding in his ears as his nerves began to get the best of him. He saw Malfoy, hunched over the sink, splashing cold water on his face, as he ran his long slender fingers through his perfect locks of silvery-gold hair.

"Malfoy," Harry's voice trembled a little, as he stepped hesitantly forward.

Draco jumped when Harry's voice filled the room. '_What the hell is he doing here?'_

"God, Potter, so you're stalking me now?" Malfoy's voice dripped with venom, as he shot Harry a murderous glare, "Shouldn't you be off saving the world or something? Leave me the hell alone."

"We need to talk," Harry said, determined not to let Malfoy walk away.

"_About __what?"_ Draco hissed, his anger clearly intensifying as each moment passed, "You're all confused because someone abandoned you again? Not my problem, I thought you'd be used to it by now, everyone's favorite orphan. Clearly, my mistake, now GO."

Harry watched Draco's eyes change from their beautiful silver-blue, to a frightening, wild black. He saw Draco's fist close over his blackthorn wand, holding it to his side in a threatening manner. He watched this insane rage take hold of Draco's body, but he didn't care. He wasn't leaving until he got what he came for.

"You started this, Draco. All of this," Harry moved closer to Draco with each word he spoke, determined to make him understand. Draco was cornered, backed into the sink with no where else to go, which suited Harry just fine, "You're the one who called me to the Room of Requirement. You're the one who tied me up, and whispered in _my _ear. You're the one who pulled my hair… and you're the one who kissed me. You can't tell me that didn't mean anything…"

Harry and Draco were nose to nose at this point, silver eyes fighting the green for control. Harry thought that he had finally made Draco see, that he had finally calmed down enough to understand… So he did the one thing he had wanted the most. He leaned in, and claimed Draco's mouth for his own. Draco was unresponsive, as Harry kissed him, frozen by anger and surprise… Harry's fingers knotted themselves into Draco's hair, forcing him to move closer… his emerald eyes began to drift shut as he slipped into euphoria, when suddenly-

"STUPEFY!"

Harry felt himself being slammed into the wall across the room, his head cracking against the linoleum tiles. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, as he tried to understand what had just happened. Draco Malfoy stood across the room, his eyes glowing with anger, holding his wand out, threateningly. His nostrils were flared, and a nasty smirk worked its way across his face, making him look all the more dangerous. He advanced towards Harry, slowly, as he spoke.

"Listen here, Potter. You _ever_ say one more word about that, and you can consider yourself dead, are we clear?" Malfoy hissed venomously, "Let me explain to you the events that took place that night, very clearly, so that you may never forget._ I e_ntered the Room of Requirement. I had a little game that I wanted to play, which regrettably required another player. You, were the two-bit piece of trash that entered next. I played my game. I won. Got it?"

Harry looked pleadingly into Draco's cold eyes. He was lying. It was a lie. There was no way that he could truly believe that it was just a game…. If it was a game, why had he been avoiding him all week? If it was just a game, why couldn't he look him in the eyes? If it was just a game, then why did Harry spend every waking moment thinking about him? And every night dreaming of his face….. It was a lie. Draco had to be lying, it was the only thing that made sense….

"But… You're lying…"Harry said weakly, trying to make sense of it all.

"Oh my god Potter, you don't stop do you?" Draco laughed maliciously, "I wish you could see yourself right now, you look so pathetic. But you still don't get it, do you? You were never anything more than a means to an end, Potter. It meant nothing. I wanted control, and I got it. You meant nothing. I'm done." He turned his back on Harry, and looked once more into the mirror, to fix his hair.

Harry felt everything inside him break, all at once. His mind, his sanity….. his heart… Broken. He felt tears stinging in his eyes, threatening to fall…. He had never felt this much pain in his life…he didn't understand. How could he mean…nothing. His mind was filled with anguish, but as he watched Draco saunter back to look in the mirror, his aguish turned to hatred and anger. His eyes blazed as he brought himself to a standing position, he grabbed his wand and held it tightly. He wanted nothing more than to cause Draco as much pain as he felt… he stood behind Draco, their eyes meeting in the reflection of the mirror. Draco had just turned to face Harry, to tell him to leave, when Harry suddenly raised his wand.

"Sectumsempra," he said, his voice, entirely void of all emotion. Draco's eyes flew open, his hand clutched at his chest, as scarlet ribbons sprayed out, blooming across his snow white shirt. He crashed to the floor, as the blood continued to pour freely from his wounds. Harry watched him, as he gasped for breath, unblinking, unmoving, his eyes burning with rage. Draco turned his silver eyes to Harry's cold emeralds.

"How… how could you?" he gasped, his breathing coming in short gasps.

"I got what I wanted." Harry said, his voice pure ice and poison. "It was all a game. And I just won."

With that, Harry left the lavatory, not once looking back, leaving Draco bleeding alone on the stone cold bathroom floor. Draco gasped, holding his arms tightly across his chest, as he tried to stem the bleeding, his breathing becoming harder to maintain…

He'd done it. He had pushed Harry away, when he had wanted nothing more than to grab him in his arms and never let go…. He had spit words filled with venom and ice, when he wanted to tell Harry he needed him, always, that it was all a lie… he'd wanted to beg him for forgiveness, to take his hand and beg him to never leave….. he had watched the way his words hit Harry straight in the heart, watched his eyes cloud over with sadness. He knew it hurt Harry worse than anything he had ever done, he wished so badly that he could apologize, tell him what a beautiful, amazing person he was..

"I'm so sorry…." he whispered into the silence….. He felt the toll of his wounds taking hold of him, his breathing more labored than it had ever been, as he lay in a pool of his own lifeblood. From a distance, he heard a shrill voice screaming 'MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!'. He let his eyes drift shut, too tired to fight for consciousness… He slipped into dreams of Emerald eyes and Raven hair …. Despite his pain, for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.

A/N: I've decided that my mind is CRUEL! I can't seem to write these guys a happy moment, EVER! JEEZ! Thank you so much to all of you who have read, favorited and reviewed, you guys are amazing! Please let me know what you think about this... haha I'm thinking that I deserve to be beaten slightly by Lucious Malfoy's pimp stick... but that's just me. *=)

Annnnnnnnnnd, no. I don't own any of these beautiful people. Sad day.


	4. Chapter 4

**CONTROL ROOM- Part four**

Pansy Parkinson hummed happily to herself as she left her Apparition Examination in the Great Hall. She couldn't believe that she had actually passed on her first try; no one in her family had ever managed it that quickly. She still felt lighter than air, as she skipped down the corridors, twirling here and there, letting her long black hair fan out behind her, shimmering like stars against the dark night sky. She was so lost in her glimmering bubble of happiness, that she didn't notice the tall figure in front of her, until she had smacked straight into him.

"Ow! Oh gosh, I'm sorry I…"She realized suddenly who it was that she had just ran into, which changed her kind demeanor entirely. "Oh, it's you. God, Potter, why don't you watch where-" She stopped suddenly as she truly caught a glimpse of the man standing before her. Harry Potter stood tall, in a defiant stance, his shoulders covered in some kind of white dust, with bits of rubble caught in the curls of his hair. His glasses were bent out of place, framing a pair of cold, unforgiving emeralds. A splash of scarlet blood caressed his cheek, though there was no wound for it to flow through.

"_Get out of my way,"_ he hissed, in a voice so horridly icy, Pansy actually shrunk back into the wall as chills raced down her spine. Her mind raced wildly as she watched him storm off down the corridor, trying desperately to figure out why he would be covered in blood… She looked down to the floor, seeing a trail of bloody foot prints, which started from a few feet ahead of her. Quickly, she glanced around her, to see if anyone else had noticed the strange scene she found herself in, before she determinedly set herself to follow the path before her. Though she walked with confidence, she grew evermore uneasy with each step; she paused as she saw the footsteps begin to turn into the doorway of the boys lavatory… it wasn't like it was the appropriate place for her to be… she had just begun to walk away, when she heard a small noise coming from inside… like a _whimper…_

'_Aw crap…'_she thought to herself. She really didn't want to be caught going into the boys bathroom, but she would feel horribly guilty if someone in there needed her help… She glanced over her shoulder nervously, making sure that no one was watching, before she stepped hesitantly into the lavatory.

The wall in front of the doorway was cracked, pieces of linoleum missing, as though something heavy had been smashed into it. Pansy's brow crinkled at this sight. The floor beneath the wall was covered in the same thick, white dust that had covered Harry's shoulders, the dust still swirling in the air, as though it had been recently disturbed. Pansy watched the way the dust sparkled as it twirled in the light of the bathroom. She had lost herself in distraction to the soft shimmers, until a small hissing from the corner broke the eerie silence.

"_I'm so…sorry…"_

Pansy's head snapped to the side, towards the small noise. Her eyes flew wide, and her mouth dropped into a silent scream at the sight that was presented to her. Draco Malfoy lay sprawled out across the cold stone floor of the lavatory, a pool of swirling scarlet surrounding him, matting into his silver-blonde hair. His hands clutched desperately at his chest, which heaved, as he struggled for air. His eyes were clenched shut, strained as he fought against the chokehold of his pain.

"D-Dray?" Pansy forced herself to utter his name, her voice sounding hoarse, unfamiliar to her. She stood frozen in place, refusing to believe the image that lay before her….. this was just another nightmare, there was no way it could actually be real…. No way it could ever happen… Suddenly, Draco gasped, then fell completely silent. Pansy watched his hand fall from his chest, in a disturbingly graceful arc, moving in slow motion….. the thud hitting the ground filled the air like gun-fire. It finally stuck Pansy…. This wasn't a dream. Draco was dying.

"MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM, MURDER!" she screamed as loudly as she could, as she ran towards Draco's lifeless body. Tears poured from her eyes, a waterfall drenching her face. She fought to control herself, her body shaking as panicked sobs racked through her. She grabbed Draco, and pulled him to her chest, rocking back and forth, as she cried.

"PLEASE, SOMEBODY HELP ME!" she screamed again, wondering if anyone could even hear her cries. "Draco, please, don't leave me. You're okay…. You have to be okay." She wiped his hair from his eyes, wishing that they would open one more time…

"Dray…?" She filled his name with a thousand prayers, as she watched the blood continue to flow. She was afraid to move her hand to his blood soaked chest, afraid of hurting him more…. Afraid to feel for a heartbeat that wasn't there…

"_You promised me,"_ she begged him, feeling her heart shattering, as the tears continued to pour down her face, "_You promised me that I was never alone….that I would always have you."_

She closed her eyes as she held him to her chest, willing her heart to beat strong enough for the both of them… praying that he would just open his eyes. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, footsteps thudded into the doorway behind her silhouetted embrace. She didn't bother to look, keeping her eyes shut as she held onto her heart.

"Miss Parkinson, why are you-" A dark silky voice began to question her, cutting off as the scene played out. She opened her eyes slowly, looking into the pale face and dark eyes of her professor. He stayed silent, as he pried her arms away from Draco's cold body, pulling out his wand and muttering spells under his breath.

"_Renervate,"_ the silken voice purred, in a forceful command. Draco's body shuddered, a shaky gasp rattling from his oxygen deprived lungs. Pansy gasped as well, in shock and relief, as her love was once more given life.

"Professor Snape, you've done it-" Pansy choked out through her tears.

"I've done nothing, Miss Parkinson," Snape dismissed her words in annoyance. He despised being praised, particularly from the bleak minds of insolent children. "I shall need to take Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing. You and I need to discuss what has happened here. I shall expect you to be waiting for me in my office when I return."

Pansy nodded at the dark Professor, before turning her attention back to Draco. He was so pale, and his eyes hadn't opened yet, though he was breathing again….

"Will he be okay, Professor?" her voice still came out in a sob.

"I'm assuming so, Miss Parkinson," Professor Snape said, almost trying to conceal his disdain for emotion. "I shall let you know when I return. You are dismissed."

Pansy squeezed Draco's hand, and leaned down to kiss his forehead, as she whispered into his ears;

"_Don't break your promise, you can't leave me."_

She stood slowly, and bowed her head to her Professor, before she turned to leave the lavatory. She walked down the corridors, slowly, avoiding eye contact with the students around her….. How could this have ever happened? Images of Harry Potter's cold green eyes flashed through her mind, mixing with the horrid visions of flowing scarlet…. Why had he done this? Tears still poured from Pansy's violet eyes, as she finally made her way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. As she walked to the back of the classroom, her eyes shied away from the disturbing pictures hung on the walls. People caught in mid-transformation, wild eyes screaming in pain as they were hit with horrid spells…. It all seemed a bit scary to Pansy. She finally reached the door to Professor Snape's office. She grasped the handle gingerly, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her… No student had ever been in the Professor's office, as far as she knew, it all seemed incredibly taboo…. She softly pushed open the door, which creaked loudly, and let herself into the room.

Snape's office was small and dark, the only light coming from an ornate, candle-lit chandelier which hung from the low ceiling. Red and black tapestries hung from the walls, collecting the dust which flowed in an aimless lazy river through the air. Between the tapestries, there were stone coves in the walls, which held various bottles and jars, some filled with shimmering liquids, others filled with strange plants, and some filled to the brim with eye-balls, which all seemed to stare, observing Pansy's every movement. Toward the back of the room was a large, mahogany desk, whose legs came down into the shape of beastly clawed feet, talons scratching into the wooden floor. A very prominent throne-like chair sat behind the desk, while a smaller wooden chair faced the front, turned out, as though inviting Pansy into its hold. The room was almost romantic, in a very forbidden way, Pansy thought to herself.

She walked towards the beastly desk, to seat herself in the small wooden chair, to await the arrival of her professor. Her violet eyes scanned the contents of the desks surface, which was covered in many curious items. Papers and quills scattered themselves here and there, some in neat stacks, while others were carelessly tossed aside. A small black bowl seated itself on the inner right corner of the table, filled to the surface with small black objects. Pansy leaned forward to see what exactly they were, and had to stifle a laugh upon realizing its contents. Pepper imps, and black licorice snaps filled the bowl to the brim…. The very thought of Professor Severus Snape, the well-known dungeon-bat, _ever _enjoying a piece of candy was something that was truly hilarious and strange to imagine, much like a dog walking on its hind legs and sipping tea… _Or Goyle reading a book, _Pansy giggled to herself. She saw something moving underneath the bowl, which instantly captured her attention. She desperately wanted to see what it was… but she worried about being caught snooping by her Professor. She crept quietly to the doorway, and peeked out, searching for any sign of his approach. After about thirty-seconds, she seemed to decide that she was safe, and ran quickly back to the desk, creeping behind it, to the little black bowl. She lifted it delicately, and snatched the paper that was underneath it. She cocked her head sideways to once more glance at the doorway, before daring herself to steal a glance at the paper in her hand.

It was a photograph. An old one, it seemed like, as the edges had begun to fray a bit, as though it had been held too often. It was a simple picture, a young woman and a young man sat close together, bundled up against the snow that surrounded them, laughing at a joke that was all their own. The woman was lovely, her long auburn hair bouncing in time with her laughter, and sparkling with the snowflakes. Her cheeks were flushed a perfect pink against her cream-colored skin, her smile was brilliant and inviting, showing her perfect white teeth. And her eyes…. a stunning set of emeralds, that glistened with joy and love, endless kindness…. There was something eerily familiar about them, though Pansy couldn't place it. The man sitting next to her was laughing just as hard, his long black hair shaking with his laughter, snowflakes dusting it white. He had a long, hooked nose, and dark, almost onyx eyes and a dazzling crooked smile. His eyes were full of life, as they focused on the beautiful girl, sparkling as her laughter rang out. He looked so familiar too…. _Professor Snape?_ _No way, _Pansy thought to herself. Professor Snape's eyes had never looked that… and was it even possible for him to _smile_? Weird. The couple in the photograph were wrapped together, sharing one scarf tied around their necks, which was striped in Slytherin's green and silver, though the woman wore a burgundy and gold Gryffindor tie….

"_Miss Parkinson," _ the deep voice of Professor Snape growled from the doorway. Pansy jumped in surprise, then looked guiltily to the photograph she held in her hand; she hadn't heard the Professor enter his office.

"I-I…. I was just… uh…"

"Sit down, Miss Parkinson," Snape gestured back to the small wooden chair at the front of the desk. Pansy gently set the photograph back on the corner of the desk, then quickly walked to seat herself in the chair, looking down at her feet the entire time. Professor Snape made his way to the desk with an unnerving grace, his long black robes sweeping behind him, like wings. As he sat in his throne, he glared intensely at Pansy, not in anger, but as though he were trying to read her mind. She fidgeted uncomfortably under his gaze, not sure how exactly she should be acting… Finally, after a long while, the deafening silence was broken.

"You will be happy to know that Mr. Malfoy is on the mend," Snape said in his robotic, emotionless purr, "He will need to take a blood replenishing potion every other hour, for the next week, as he wounds are resisting treatment. He lost a lot of blood. He will be severely scarred, however, no other permanent damage shall remain. He is resting now; Madame Pomfrey says that he may have visitors in two days time."

"Thank you, Professor." Pansy said, her voice breaking both with relief and sorrow.

"Miss Parkinson, how did you come to find Mr. Malfoy in this state?"

Pansy shifted her weight nervously, trying to come up with the best way to explain the story.

"Well, uh… I was coming back from my test, and I was super excited, because I passed.. like the first try. Nobody in my family has ever done that, so it was…" She caught the expression on her Professor's face, and quickly decided he wasn't interested in her details…

"Um…. Sorry, anyways…. I was walking, and I ran into..."she decided to smudge her details here. Something about the look on Harry Potter's face told her that she really didn't want to bring him into this if she didn't have to. It scared her. "… I ran into this _guy_, and he had, like, blood on his face and stuff. And there were bloody footprints behind him, so I kinda just decided to, like, follow them, you know?"

The Professor had a look of pure boredom and disgust upon his face, as his long fingers drummed against the desk's surface. Pansy's brow furrowed. She knew this was a serious thing they were discussing, but Professor Snape was seriously a bad listener…

"Anyways… they went into the boy's bathroom, which kinda freaked me out, since it's like, the _boy's _bathroom, so I was going to walk away, but then I heard something inside. I went in and found Dray lying on the floor, covered in blood, so I screamed. Then you found me, so, like, I guess you know the rest…. "

Snape continued to drum his fingers idly on the desk's surface, staring once more at Pansy, who fidgeted, twisting her fingers in her long dark hair. It was an incredibly awkward silence, the only noises were the drumming of the Professor's fingers, and the small flickering of the candles. Pansy looked nervously around the room, wondering if the Professor had expected her to just explain her story and leave. Finally, Snape cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"And this… _'guy'_ Miss Parkinson?"

"Uh… yes?" Pansy looked nervously at her Professor. Snape rolled his eyes and clenched his teeth together tightly before he continued.

"_Who _was he?" he questioned impatiently.

"Oh, uh….well… it was Potter, sir, Harry Potter."

"I see. Well then, you are excused, Miss Parkinson."

Pansy stood promptly at the sudden excuse, relieved to finally be able to leave the Professor's office. She was surprised that he hadn't punished her for looking through his belongings. She nodded a polite goodbye, then walked quickly out of the office, and through the gloomy classroom, leaving Snape alone in the silence.

Snape watched the dark-haired girl as she traipsed out of his office. He hated children, how they felt the need to invade upon everyone's personal space, how they felt no serious pressure from the world… how they walked away from their tragedies and torment, into a simplistic bliss. Skipping off into a world in which their fate had not been sealed into emptiness…. She was worse than most, her mind blanked with the simple blink of an eye. He glanced down to the corner of his desk, his eyes stopping on the photograph of the young woman. He picked it up and glanced over it, sighing with discontent.

"_Oh Lily…" _

He watched the couple in the photograph laughing, laced together with a Slytherin scarf as the snowflakes trapped them in a world of white. Lily's eyes sparkled as she laughed, wiping the snow of the bridge of Snape's nose… How desperately he wished that he could truly lose himself in his memories, instead of facing the cold reality he had found himself trapped in. This world was so empty…

He set the photograph gently down on the desk, and covered it with paperwork, so he would no longer have to look into Lily's eyes. He sat down to compose a letter to Professor McGonagall, explaining the situation and summoning Harry Potter to his office. He walked to the owlery in silence, climbing the steep steps as the wind whipped across his face and through his onyx hair. He picked a large, beautiful owl, with sparkling green eyes and feathers darker than the night sky. He attached the letter gently to the owl's leg, and released him , watching his wings span impressively, casting a brilliant shadow across the endless sapphire sky… if only he could fly away too…

**A/N ... Hello Hello Hello! I'm so so sorry that it has been forever and a day since I last updated! But you know those awkward moments when you're having a truly crappy couple of weeks, and you have writers block, and THEN your computer crashes? Well... yeah. haha I do too! My apologies that this is a small little chapter, but I PROMISE that the next one shall be large and fantastic. THANK YOU to all of you who have read and reviewed, you guys are like the rainbow marshmallows in my Lucky Charms (which are the BEST!) And to Miss Avery Athena Black... darling, your comments make me laugh so much, haha particularly "OH MY DRAPPLE!". I'm definitely going to try and squeeze in some drapple just for you! *=D**

**LOVE LOVE! Johnni Evans**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Control Room- Part 5**_

Harry stormed away from the lavatory in a dark, tormentous haze, only pausing to dispel the Parkinson girl. His mind was seemingly numb, only free enough to chant _'What have I done? What have I done?',_ the words like chains, imprisoning him in his own hell….

'_Walk. Just keep walking.'_

Harry followed the voices in his head without question…. He wasn't sure what he was doing… he only knew, this was not a time to stall. Getting caught would not be in his favor…

'_Keep walking….just keep walking…..'_

The hallways passed by in a blur, distorted images of horrified faces collected in shattered still-frames in his mind as he blindly worked his way through the castle. Time passed in an instant, as day morphed in an elegant fluidity into night. The sconces on the walls erupted into brilliant flames, illuminating the darkness and casting dancing shadows, which followed Harry, reaching out to him from the stone. As the darkness set in, Harry finally started consciously thinking… he realized that he had absolutely no idea where he was. He glanced around, and found a window, which he approached slowly. Looking out hesitantly, he realized he must be somewhere in the North tower. He sighed, and lowered himself down to sit on the window ledge, breathing slowly, letting his breath fog the windows, blocking out the stars whose twinkling lights desperately tried to break through. His head was throbbing… gingerly, he ran his fingers across the back of his skull. The skin was tender, and his hair was matted and caked with dried blood. He moved his hand slowly to his face, feeling yet another trail of dried blood flaking off at his touch, yet, there was no wound for it to pour from. '_This is not mine_….'

"What _have_ I done….?" He whispered to himself. Through the haze of his headache, he tried to piece together the events of the day… he only remembered walking. Walking and walking until he finally ended up here. Blurry images flitted through his thoughts, and yet none of them made any sense…. Where was all this blood coming from? And what was it that he was walking away from? He gently pressed his fingers to the back of his skull again, and a searing pain raged through his head.

"_Ow," _he hissed, ripping his fingers back quickly. He listened closely, straining his ears to hear the distant voices of the school filling the hallways, but finding none.

'_It must be later than I thought…'_

He cast his gaze once more to the window, looking down to the grounds. A shimmery mist had created a billowy blanket across the dark fields below. Harry sighed once again, as he lifted himself from his hidden seat at the windowsill. He stared down the long empty corridor, knowing that he would have to return to the Gryffindor common-room sooner or later, that it was probably already long past curfew. He could be confused there, just as well as he could here, he supposed…..

He edged carefully along the walls, and down the spiraling staircases, hardly daring to breath for fear of being caught after curfew. Miraculously, he found himself clambering through the portrait hole, minutes later, without being caught by any of the guarding night-staff. As he stepped tentatively into the common room, he found himself suddenly being locked into a painful embrace, as a shrill voice screeched;

"Where have you been? We were so worried! Ron, tell him how worried we were!"

"_OW! _Hermione, get off!" Harry yelped, as his head gave yet another violent throb. He shoved Hermione off of him forcefully, sending her crashing to the floor.

"_Harry! _Wha-what are you doing?" Ron shouted angrily, as he ran to help Hermione off the floor. Hermione whimpered softly, and quickly retreated to stand behind Ron.

"I-I… I'm sorry Hermione, I just-"

"That was bang out of line, what the bloody hell is your problem?" Ron snarled, as he shoved Harry against the portrait hole door. Harry hissed, as the sudden force caused his head to split open.

"_Ouch!_ I- I… I'm sorry, I dunno I just-"

"You're covered in blood." Hermione peeked her head hesitantly around Ron's broad shoulders, as she clutched her arms tightly around her own chest. Her voice was shaky, but her eyes were filled with cold anger. Ron threw his arm out protectively, blocking Hermione from Harry's reach.

"Hermione, I'm so sor-"

"Why are you covered in blood?" Hermione cut him off coldly; making it clear that she wanted answers, not sympathy.

"I…I.. Her-"

"_Why are you covered in blood?"_ she spat again, her voice regaining confidence, infused with her anger.

"I-I… I dunno I-"

As Harry desperately searched for an explanation, the common room fireplace suddenly erupted into venomous, emerald flames, which kissed the floor and licked the ceilings. From the flames, a very tall, thin, statuesque witch stepped forth, brandishing a long black wand, and wearing an expression which clearly stated danger.

"P-Professor McGonagall!" Hermione squeaked, her voice once more returning to a nervous, shaky tone.

"Miss Granger, Mister Weasly, you may go," Professor McGonagall stated curtly, her eyes narrowed in anger, piercing Harry like daggers.

"But Professor, we-" Ron tried to interject, but upon catching the Professor's stern eyes, quickly decided to change his mind. "Uh… we were just going. Er…. Right. C'mon 'Mione." Ron gently put his hands on Hermione's shoulders, and together, they shuffled quickly out of the common room. Professor McGonagall immediately returned her angry, piercing eyes back to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, in all my years, I never! You cannot even begin to imagine the shame and disgrace that I feel, having to know that it was a student of _my_ keeping that would behave in such a manner, attacking another student-"

"Wha- At….. _Attacked?_" Harry stuttered, desperately willing his mind to unlock his memories of what had happened today…. But he could still only remember walking.. Attacking someone would explain all the blood… but who would he have attacked? _Why?_

"Yes Mr. Potter, attacked, _attacked! _ And then fleeing the scene, and not reappearing until one in the morning, _further_ appearing to behave like some disobedient, delirious, deranged delinquent! Half the castle was put on the lookout for you, Mr. Potter; _Half the castle!_ Why, I… I don't even know what to say! _Explain yourself!"_ The Professor breathed heavily as she interrogated Harry, her eyes blazing with a brilliant fire. Harry stared dumbly back at her, knowing that there was nothing he could say to make this situation better…. He still had absolutely no idea what was going on. He knew that anything he said would only make her, regrettably, angrier.

"Professor, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I don't know what to say. I really don't. And I don't know how to explain myself, because I honestly don't-"

"_Don't _play dumb with me, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall cut him off, curtly. " It will serve you _no_ favors, and will not bode well with me."

"Professor, I'm sorry, I-"

"Mr. Potter, this is out of my hands. Normally, of course, I would take this to the Headmaster, or deal with the issue myself. However, due to the amount of severe damage you have done, this case has merited special attention, to which Professor Snape has requested to handle personally. I myself, could not agree more, at this point."

"Professor _Snape? _What does he have to do with any of this?" Harry choked out. '_What do __I__ have to do with any of this, for that matter…' _ he wondered to himself.

"He's the head of the boy's house, for gods sake!" Professor McGonagall spat, exasperatedly, "What _doesn't_ he have to do with any of this? Honestly, Potter, I would very much like to understand you. I, for one, cannot even begin to conceive the type of foolish, reckless, _idiotic_ line of thinking, that could ever lead you to believe that you could do such a thing as getting away with attacking the likes of Draco Malfoy."

"_D-Draco?"_ Harry whispered, stunned. His veins turned to ice, the room began to spin as it faded to black, and he crashed to the floor, realization cutting through the fog of his mind like a knife.

**Authors Note:** First of all, thank you all so much for your support as I have been writing this story, your comments mean the WORLD to me, and have inspired me to keep going. You guys are the best! I know that this chapter is short, and I had promised a longer chapter... I am already halfway done with the next chapter, but had realized that it had been so long since I have updated, I wanted to share this little bit with you all. So bear with me, I will have the next part up SOON! No, I don't own any of these characters, the lovely Queen Rowling does! OH! haha and for those of you who have mentioned how annoying it is that I made you like Pansy Parkinson... you're welcome!

*=D


	6. Chapter 6

_**Control Room- Part 6**_

"Don't you think we should bring him to the hospital wing, Severus?"

"Oh, yes Minerva, what a brilliant idea. In fact, why don't we just put him in the bed next to young Malfoy, see if he can have better luck with attempting to kill him this time?"

"Severus! Honestly, the boy didn't seem to be in his right mind, his wounds look serious, he may need help."

Harry stirred slightly in his unconscious state, listening to the conversation surrounding him. _'Great'_ he thought to himself… locked in a room with Professors McGonagall and Snape…. the two most likely to expel him, and the one most likely to curse him the second he turned his back. Well, this was cozy…

"Nonsense, Minerva," Snape's deep voice muttered. Harry suddenly heard the sound of vials shifting around, which made him feel a bit uneasy. Professor McGonagall seemed to echo his concern;

"What is that? That vial you're holding, Severus, what does it contain?" Professor McGonagall sounded nervous as she interrogated Snape.

"Worried I might poison a student, Minerva?" Snape purred, delicately. Harry was sure that if he were to open his eyes, he would find the Professor with a sickening sneer, gracing his long pale face.

"No, Severus, I would never… it's just, your history with Potter-"

"Is a history between myself and his father, Minerva. The boy holds no particular interest to me, other than how amazingly accurate his replication of his father's arrogance is." Snape growled, effectively silencing Professor McGonagall. There was a pause, in which Harry could hear the shifting of robes.

"It's essence of dittany, Minerva, for his wounds. Would you care to test it yourself? I'd be more than happy to help you with a demonstration…" Snape's words were filled with venom and malice, which sent chills down Harry's spine.

"No, Severus, Of course not." McGonagall quietly conceded.

"Have you any further objections of me treating the boy?" Snape purred, dangerously.

"No, Severus… I've none."

"Good." Snape growled.

Harry heard heavy footsteps coming towards him. He willed himself to continue to feign unconsciousness, thinking that this was not a particularly good moment for him to be a part of the world. He felt a pair of very large, strong hands take hold of his shoulders, shifting him roughly onto his side. One hand ran coarsely across his cheek, flaking off the streak of dried blood that had adorned it.

"There is no opening here, Minerva, this blood belongs to Malfoy." Snape's voice came out in just little more than a whisper, the warm air tickling Harry's forehead. Professor McGonagall gave a tiny gasp at the information, but stayed silent otherwise.

Harry felt Snape's long fingers move from his cheek, to the back of his skull, hitting the spot where it had been cracked open. Harry refrained from gasping, but gave an involuntary twitch as pain shot through his body; which did not go unnoticed by the Professors.

"Severus? What is it, what has happened?" McGonagall sounded panicked, Harry heard her smaller footsteps dart towards him.

"He is injured, Minerva, it is not irreparable. Calm yourself."

"But what has happened, Severus?" McGonagall demanded, sternly.

Snape stayed silent for a moment, as his fingers continued to trail across the back of Harry's head, with a little more delicacy than he had previously shown. Harry heard the impatient tapping of McGonagall's feet on the stone floor.

"It is a skull fracture, I think;" Snape muttered under his breath, "I can fix it, give me a moment."

Harry felt Snape's fingers suddenly being replaced by the stiff wood of a wand. There was a sudden swishing movement, the air ruffled Harry's hair, as the air tickled the back of his neck. Harry grimaced as he felt his cracked bones suddenly stitch themselves back together…. It was a sickening feeling, just as painful as having them smashed apart, only, in reverse. He felt a thick hot liquid trickling down the back of his neck, accompanied by a sharp pain, to which he could only assume was an indication that his skin had once again torn itself apart.

"He's bleeding, Severus!" McGonagall exclaimed, panicked.

"Give me a moment, Minerva." Snape hissed, "The dittany, if you please."

The sound of a cork popping from a bottle was suddenly heard, followed by the sound of glass gently greeting a wooden table. Harry felt the scratchy, knobby material of an old cloth rubbing up against his neck, mopping up the fresh trail of blood. The sound of splashing liquid was heard, and cloth was again replaced to the back of his skull. His skin was suddenly burning, he felt his wound welding together, scabbing over, and being replaced with new skin. The fire remained for a minute longer, then suddenly, it was extinguished, and the pain ceased altogether.

"Well?"

"Well _what, _Minerva?"

"Should we wake him? He hasn't moved…" McGonagall sounded concerned.

Snape remained silent. Harry felt his strong hands once again take place on his shoulders, as he was shoved, forcefully, back onto his back. He tried desperately to maintain his façade of unconsciousness.

"Mr. Potter has been awake all this time, Minerva, grasping onto our every word. Isn't that right, _Mr. Potter?_" Snape growled venomously.

'_Damn!' _ Harry thought to himself. He had clung to the desperate thought that he had been able to fool the Professor into thinking he was unconscious… '_May as well keep up the act….'_

"Where…. Where am I…?" he muttered, blearily, "What happened?" He opened his eyes slowly, blinking his vision clear, screwing up his eyebrows to look confused. He sat up slowly, propping himself up on his elbows, turning his head cautiously to observe his surroundings.

"Potter, are you okay?" Professor McGonagall dashed to his side, shoving Professor Snape out of her way.

"I'm… I'm fine," Harry reached his hand delicately to the back of his head. It didn't hurt any longer, but he still hissed, and winced for effect. "What….. what happened? Where am I?"

His performance felt cheesy, even to him, but he felt that his future would be safer, the less he acknowledged he knew. Professor McGonagall seemed to be buying it, as she ditched her stern eyes for a mothering, compassionate look. Snape sat in his corner, obviously seething, and most definitely _not _convinced. Harry was worried, but he didn't know what else to do…. To his benefit, or so he thought, the memories were still foggy.

"Severus… perhaps we should wait," McGonagall said gently, as she placed her slender hands on Harry's cheeks, inspecting him for more damage, "We should give him the night to rest, we can interrogate him in the morning."

"No, Minerva." Snape stated, firmly.

"Severus, really! The boy has been through quite enough today. What is the harm in waiting? The situation will not have changed by mor-"

"The _situation_ will not have changed, if _we_ do not take the responsibility to change it, _Minerva._ We have a student who has been violently attacked, nearly killed, and we have his attacker, to whom you seem intent on mollycoddling. Now, personally, I do not take things such as attempted murder very lightly, you see. I most certainly do not believe that it is something that should be put off until morning, because our little murderer is tired. But obviously, you must feel otherwise, _Minerva_." Snape's words were icy daggers, which tore through the mind and chilled the soul. A deep flush worked its way across McGonagall's hollow cheeks; her lips had thinned into practically nothing as her confidence was torn in two.

"That is not at all what I was implying, _Severus._" She replied, nervously, but icily.

"Then I can assume you've come to understand the importance of handling the situation my way?"

There was a very pregnant pause, in which Professor McGonagall glared coldly at Professor Snape, before finally giving a begrudging, "Yes."

"Very well then," Snape stated, as he began to strut purposefully out of his corner, "I believe that I can handle it from here. You may leave."

"Wha- _leave?_ But Severus-"

"I said leave, Minerva." Snape spat in a cold tone, which left absolutely no room for argument. Professor McGonagall gave him an angry, contemptuous glare, before turning back to face Harry.

"Good evening then, Mr. Potter." She shot Harry a look that crossed somewhere between anger, fear and sympathy, before turning quickly on her heel and exiting the office. The door slammed shut behind her, with a loud _BANG, _officially sealing Harry into a nightmare.

Harry sat uncomfortably, twitching nervously under Snape's intense stare. The room was horrifyingly silent, the only sounds being the wind crashing against the outside foundations. Snape's eyes darkened and narrowed as he glared at Harry, his fingers drumming together as he plotted his next move. Harry was reminded very much of a snake, waiting for his prey to close their eyes, so it could strike. It was less than comfortable, to say the least…

"So, _Mr. Potter," _Snape purred, pouring his velvety hatred into every syllable. Harry shifted his weight around as he waited for Snape to truly begin his lecture. He was going to be expelled, he knew it for sure; how could he not be? He honestly regretted the fact that Professor McGonagall had to leave, he would have stood a much better chance with her in the room… at least she was fair. Snape sneered, his lips curling back to show his dagger-like teeth.

"_Mr. Potter_," he began, again, "It seems that we have taken our '_celebrity'_ to a new level, haven't we? Using it to get away with murder now… my, my… we do think quite a bit of ourselves now, don't we?" Snape's head danced from side to side, swaying like a snake in a trance, as he baited Harry, daring him to engage in a fight. "Such arrogance…. How very much like your father you are."

Harry snarled angrily at the mention of his father, but did not strike back. There was no winning in a war of words with Professor Snape, it could only lead to punishment of a deeper severity…

"Professor McGonagall mentioned to me that you… _just couldn't seem to recall_ the nights events. She seems to think that you were so very traumatized, it led to you blacking out. Would you like to know what I think, _Mr. Potter_?"

Harry stared back at his Professor, unblinkingly, unresponsively, allowing him to relish in the silence.

"Not talking, are we? That's a first," The Professor sneered, "You see, what I think, _Mr. Potter, _ is that you have put on quite a show for the world. _Everyone_ wants to sympathize with poor little orphan Potter. Magnificent Potter, _brave_ Potter, surely, he, is the savior of the wizarding world, is he not?"

Harry ignored Snape's taunting, biting his tongue as he waited for his punishment…. Nice way to end things, he supposed… Ron and Hermione hated him… he'd nearly murdered Draco… and if Ginny were to ever find out about he and Draco, well, it's not like she'd stick around. At least nobody would miss him once he was expelled…

"Nobody has ever stopped to think, for just a moment… perhaps you're nothing more than a _less_ than adequate wizard, hiding behind more talented friends. _Not_ that the Weasly boy has ever shown anything even alluding to talent… But were you anyone else but the famous Harry Potter, you would have been expelled, immediately, no questions asked. However…. As per usual, you seem to have been granted _special circumstances…_The Headmaster has once again forbidden your expulsion." Snape snarled, absolutely seething at his last words. Harry's stomach did a somersault… not being expelled was great… but something in the glint of Snape's eyes told him that his punishment would somehow end up being worse.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, evenly, ignoring the insults that Snape had been baiting him with so cruelly. He sat perfectly still, once again, letting the silence fog the empty air. Snape looked absolutely deadly, leering at Harry from his perch. Harry waited patiently, counting off the seconds until Snape inevitably announced his impending doom.

"Oh yes," Snape hissed, absolutely burning with fury, "You're so very…_welcome_, Potter," he spat. "It would seem that all that is left to finish this little happy ending of yours, would be statement from you…. So if you wouldn't mind… _Please._ Do tell."

Harry paused, staring straight into the Professor's dark eyes. The war between emerald and onyx was intense, fury locked in steely prisons.

"As you stated, _Professor,_ Professor McGonagall indicated to you that I _have_ no recollection of what happened today. So, I'm sorry. I don't have a statement to make."

Professor Snape's eyes glinted evilly, as a dangerous smirk worked its way across his sharp teeth.

"You're _sorry? _ Is that honestly the best you have? Well now, _Mr. Potter, _you seem to be forgetting the best that _I _have… I don't need you to be willing… I don't even need you to speak. So what shall I use? _Veritaserum_?" he paused a moment, watching Harry intensely, "Or shall we see if you've been practicing your Occlumency?"

Harry's head snapped up in shock and fear at the suggestion of Snape breaking into his mind…. He had never been able to keep anyone out of his thoughts… let alone a skilled Legilimens, such as Professor Snape. His sudden fear did not go unnoticed, as Snape's sneer grew evermore pronounced.

"Nervous, are we? And what is it that we're trying to hide, Potter?"

"N-nothing sir," Harry stuttered, " I told you, I don't remember anything. There's nothing for me to hide."

"Well, Potter, you have just once again shown how very ignorant you are. The memories that you think that you are hiding from me will be there, whether you choose to acknowledge them, or not. _I _ will _always_ be able to access them. Care for a demonstration…?"

Before Harry had time to comprehend what it was that his Professor was saying, Snape had whipped out his wand, arching it magnificently over his head, and striking it forward with a flourish as he shouted;

"_LEGILIMENS!"_

Harry's eyes flew wide open as his memories flooded through his mind, playing out like a horrid film that he just couldn't stop. Images of Ron and Hermione laughing with him at breakfast flitted through his mind, intertwined with private moments with he had spent with Ginny. The Dursleys screaming at him, locking him away from the world…. Sirius falling through the veil…Bellatrix's cold laughter… "_I killed Sirius Black, I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK!" _….. the nightmares, Voldemort's scarlet eyes, emerald flames…. Ron waking him up…. Yelling at Ron….. the door to the Room of Requirement opening before him…

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Harry screamed, thrashing uselessly, trying to do anything in his power to throw Snape out of his mind.

"Ah, so it seems we _do _remember something then, Potter? Perhaps we'll watch just a little longer then…." Snape purred.

"No, please, no!" Harry shouted, once more.

"Silence."

The memory pushed onward, despite Harry's pleading, and his desperate attempts to block Snape's attack. The door to the Room of Requirement pushed open, and Harry watched as he walked in… he was bound with ropes, and blindfolded….. Draco, his lips crashing against Harry's… his hands wandering…. Harry pleading desperately for more….. Draco leaving….

"Get out, GET OUT!" Harry grabbed hold of his own head, as though he could physically rip the Professor from his mind. His stomach twisted, nausea taking a violent hold on him as the memories continued to play out. Walking to breakfast…. Catching Draco's cold silver eyes…. watching his dot on the Marauders Map…. Potions…..begging Draco to talk to him… following him out of the classroom, into the lavatory…. Grabbing him, claiming him as his own….slamming into the wall, his skull cracking… "_You mean nothing… I'm done"_….. Nothing…. "_Sectumsempra"…._the blood, so much blood…. "_How could you?_"…. walking….walking…darkness…

The memories finally stopped. Harry sat in his chair, shaking, shaking with anger, hatred, fear, disgust and embarrassment. He couldn't believe that Snape had invaded his privacy so horribly. Snape…..

Professor Snape sat across from Harry, his eyes glittering madly in the darkness of the office. His dark eyebrows knit themselves together in slight confusion, as he seemed momentarily stunned into silence. Finally, he managed to speak in hushed, raspy tones.

"_Well, well… Mr. Potter…"_

Harry forced himself to look directly back at his professor; despite his urge to hide his face away. He noticed that Snape's eyes had somehow grown darker than their customary onyx, dark enough to shame the night sky. His face had become paler, too, ghostly white, but for the thin flush of color that had worked its way to the hollows of his prominent cheek bones._' He must be furious…' _ Harry thought nervously to himself. The silence was horrid, a thick smoky wall filling the space between them, and suffocating all who stood in its wake. Harry wanted desperately to say something, anything, to make it seem as though the Professor hadn't just seen what his mind had betrayed… but what did one say? '_Oops, I really didn't mean to snog your favorite student, and then almost murder him… accidents happen, Right? I'm sure you'll all understand…'_ Harry cringed. There was no getting out of this. There was nothing to be said. He waited, in agony, for Snape to destroy him….

"Mister… _Potter_," Snape let the words spill from his mouth slowly, like molasses. The edgy, raspy quality hadn't left it, either. "That was, and I think to say in the very least… _interesting. _Who would have ever guessed that the _famous_ Harry Potter, would ever have such intriguing… _motives?" _The Professors tongue slithered out, like a snake, licking the edges of his thin, dry lips; as though he were waiting for Harry to put up a fight. Harry, however, remained silent, his eyes empty, but for a cold, desperate surrender. Snape clearly wanted more from him.

"Might you have any other… _pitiful…_ explanation for the events we have just witnessed in your mind?" Snape leered down at Harry, clearly enjoying his seat of power.

"N-no sir. I have none." Harry muttered, quite dejectedly.

"Well then… Have you anything else to say, _Mister Potter?_" He purred, venomously. Harry blinked at him, squirming in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with his current position.

"N-no, sir. Only that I should like to apologize to you, and to Mr. Malfoy for what damages I have caused." Harry's voice was robotic, his apology rehearsed, and clearly insincere. However, Snape simply flashed a wicked smirk at these words, once again showing his daggered teeth.

"_Mister Malfoy… _ So formal, particularly in light of witnessing what close _acquaintances _you seem to really be." Snape let the insult hang in the air for a moment, further burying Harry in his own embarrassment. " Well then, it seems that all we should have left to us is the matter of your punishment, would it not?"

"Yes," Harry muttered, dreading what was to come next.

"You shall serve detention, with me, every Saturday Morning, _Mr. Potter, _ eight a.m. sharp. You will be filing and transcribing old records of past offences. Your punishment shall not end, until _all _ work is completed, and is to _my _satisfaction." Snape spoke, very officially.

" Is that it?" Harry questioned him, his brow furrowed. Not that spending every Saturday morning with the dungeon-bat professor was ideal in any sense of the word… but the punishment seemed a bit… _light_, when compared to his crime. Particularly when Professor Snape was the one assigning it…

"Yes, Potter, as far as your punishment goes, that's it." Snape spoke, in a bored drawl, however, his eyes had begun to spark again, and his wicked sneer had returned once more to his face. " There is just _one little thing_ I seem to have forgotten though." He spoke, menacingly, as he once more approached Harry, who flinched nervously. Snape paused, only a moment, then once more, slashed his wand through the air, striking Harry's temple. Harry felt the strangest sensation in his brain, much like it was being pulled, like taffy. Random still frames from his memories began flashing through his mind. Harry realized, only too late, what was happening, just as he saw Snape corking the vial, which now contained his fluid, silvery memories.

"I believe that these belong to me, now…" Snape growled, wickedly, as his dangerous smile grew more pronounced, twisting his handsome features.

"B-but you can't! That's stealing, those are _my_ memories!" Harry spat out, in a desperate panicky tone, "Why would you need them anyways, you've already seen them, you have your confession!"

"Oh, _I know, _Mr. Potter… but you see, I'm not taking them for a confession. I'm stealing your secrets." Snape hissed, thoroughly pleased with himself, "If I have learned one thing… it is that information is _power. _The power to gain what you want….. the power to get what you need… the power to take what you… _desire. _And as long as I own your little secrets, Potter, I own you. I now have that _power…" _Snape hissed, venomously, his eyes looking truly mad, as they glistened victoriously, his long teeth bared as he leered down towards his victim.

"_That's blackmail,_" Harry hissed right back, infuriated with what he was hearing, and terrified to find out exactly what it might mean. The room had started spinning again… "You can't do that, it's illegal."

"Oh I know Mr. Potter. But you see, it's my word against yours. And who would ever believe the word or a deranged, hormonal, attempted murderer?" Snape mocked him cruelly, as he watched him fall further into his trap… Harry stared up at him, fearfully. Snape smirked wickedly, then paused suddenly, in mock thoughtfulness. "Actually, Potter, now that I think about it… it's _your_ word against yours. Wouldn't want the world finding out about our little… hobbies, now would we?"

Harry glared up at Snape, a look filled with horrified anger, as the room spun wildly around him, leaving him swimming in nauseating confusion…. He thought he distinctly heard the wicked sound of Snape's cackling laughter, before he once again faded away, losing himself in the blackness…

**A/N** Oh goodness, was anyone else expecting it to turn out like this? I wasn't! Thank you so much to all of my readers, your guys' support is AMAZING, you guys definitely keep me going! As per usual, nothing has magically granted me the right to own these beautiful characters, J.K. Rowling gets to sit on that happy little perch... Again, THANK Y'ALL!

Love Love,

Johnni Evans


	7. Chapter 7

_**Control Room- Part 7**_

Draco Malfoy sat in his small hospital bed, picking idly at the knobby cotton sheets which covered his long legs. It was so boring here… and so… _white. _ Everything was so plain….. He tried yawning, but his breath hitched suddenly, as he grasped his ribs tightly.

"_Ow!"_ He hissed sharply. He exhaled slowly, as he ran his hands tenderly across the bandages covering his body. It had been two days since the attack, but no matter what elixir or spell Madame Pomfrey tried, the wounds refused to heal. Draco watched as, yet again, the red bloodstains blossomed elegantly across the tight cloth binding him.

"Madame Pomfrey…?" he called out, from behind the white curtains which concealed him from the outside world. He waited a moment, but there was only silence, and the blood was pouring faster now. It had begun to soak the cotton sheets of his cot, making them sticky and hot.

"Madame Pomfrey? Please, I need your help…" he called out once more, a bit louder. This time he heard the shuffling of feet across the tile floors.

"What? What is it boy, why are you-" Madame Pomfrey had bustled impatiently into the room, aiming to lecture Draco, until her attention was captured by the blood pooling on the sheets.

"My goodness, what have you done this time!" she quickly ran to his side, skillfully removing the bandages, and mopping up his sides.

"Nothing! I just- ah!" Draco hissed, as she began pouring essence of dittany across the gashes in his skin. It burned the edges of them, just enough to stop the bleeding, but still couldn't seem to stitch them back together. Madame Pomfrey's brows knit together, as she clicked her tongue in frustration.

"Isn't there something else you can do? We've tried the dittany a thousand times already, it's not working! My father-"

"_Mister Malfoy!_ I have done everything in my power to try and heal you, it is not my fault that it is not working;" Madame Pomfrey had puffed her chest out defiantly, shooting Malfoy a hawk-like, piercing glare. Her expression softened slightly, however as she caught Draco's sad blue eyes. "They are curse wounds, Mr. Malfoy. I am doing the best I can, but it will take time. I'm sorry."

She finished changing the sheets, and gently bandaging him once more, before softly laying him back onto the bed.

"We shouldn't have to change these again until tomorrow, if you don't manage to tear yourself up again, mind you." She scolded him, softly. "You look pale, though. Eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"I wasn't asking. Now eat." She waved her wand as she stepped out of the curtains, and a basket of fruits and breads appeared at Draco's bedside table. He scowled at the curtains, before tuning to look at what had been summoned to his bedside.

A loaf of fresh hot bread sat steaming in a cloth napkin, next to a tureen of butter and jam. Oranges and strawberries splashed their colors playfully amongst a sea of black and purple grapes. Brown speckled bananas sat in their ugly crescents near the edges of the basket. Draco sighed as he turned away from the basket, disappointed with its contents, but stopped suddenly when a small speck of green caught his eyes. He paused, looking intensely at the spot where he had seen the green, waiting for it to disappear, to be just a figment of his imagination, a trick of the light…. He grinned when it didn't fade away, and quickly flicked out his hand to claim his prize.

He leaned gently back against his stack of pillows, propping him up, before unclenching his hands to look at his new treat. It was beautiful. A perfect green apple, with skin so smooth and glossy, he could see his own emerald reflection staring back at him. He gently pressed the fruit to his nose, inhaling deeply, capturing all the scents it carried; the cool breeze of a wide orchard, the warmth of the sun beating down on the trimmed grass beneath the trees, and of course, its own intoxicating florally, fruity scent which overwhelmed his sense of being, making his eyes flutter and his mouth water. He squeezed his eyes shut, as he rolled the apple down from his nose, snaking out his tongue to caress the skins surface, rolling over the small bumps and dips, appreciating its every flaw, before he launched himself forward, sinking his long, sharp teeth into the firm flesh, puncturing its shiny surface with a satisfactory _'pop!'_. He was absolutely salivating, as the flood of tart juice came rushing into his mouth, bathing his tongue, and splashing down his pointed chin. He swallowed it all, greedily, as licked his lips, preparing to take another delicious bite, when he heard a soft voice at the edge of the curtains;

"Um… am I interrupting something?" Draco nearly choked on his apple as he quickly jerked his head up to see the shy smiling face of Pansy Parkinson. He hurriedly shoved the bitten, weeping apple back into the basket.

"_Pansy!_ Wha- what are you doing here? I didn't know anyone was coming I'd have-"

"Oh be quite, Dray. You'd have what, fixed your bed head? Of course I was coming, Snape said I had to wait two days for you to rest, it's been two days," Pansy ran forward, and gently nuzzled her head against Draco's shoulder. "I've missed you, Dray."

"It's only been two days, Pans," Draco said, as he ruffled his fingers through her dark silky hair.

"Yeah, but it wasn't like it was a normal two days. You could have-"

"Stop. We aren't talking about that." Draco said, a cold edge creeping into his voice. Pansy lifted her head slowly off of his shoulder, to look into his steely blue eyes. After a moment of silence, she nodded, and changed the subject.

"I… I brought you something. It's kind of stupid, but, I thought you might like to have something here, you know…" she mumbled, her words becoming more incoherent, as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Draco grinned at her, reassuringly, as he gripped her small hand in his own.

"You can't call something that you got me stupid, Pans. Nothing that belongs to a Malfoy is _ever _stupid, got that?" he said, in a mock stern voice.

"Yes, sir!" she giggled in response, her smile lighting up her face.

"So what is it?"

"Just a sec…" Pansy muttered, as she dug through her bag, "Oh! Here it is, got it!" She handed Draco a clear, glass, rectangular prism, about the size of a shoe box.

"You…. Got me a box," Draco said, completely confused, "Um.. thanks."

"Oh shut up, you know that's not it. Just give me a second," Pansy smirked. She returned to her bag, shifting around its contents until she found what she was looking for. Finally she pulled out her hands, and set the new items on the small bedside table. Draco looked over them curiously, still not knowing what she was doing.

"Open the lid of the box for me, will you?" Pansy said, as she began uncapping the jars on the table. Draco set the box gently on his bandaged chest, and slowly lifted off the lid. Pansy turned swiftly, and poured in a vial of water, a jar of dirt, and a container of silvery, luminescent glitter.

" What is that?" Draco asked, tilting his head to watch the glitter settle to the bottom of the box.

"Stardust; be quite," Pansy replied, distractedly, as she tore off the top of a paper packet. She slowly poured its contents, a handful of small, brown seeds, on top of the dirt and water in the box. She looked behind her, to the table, checking to make sure that nothing had been left behind. Seeming satisfied with what she found, she turned back to Draco, grinning excitedly.

"Pans… what is all this?"

"You'll see," she said, grinning, "Ready?"

Draco nodded, not exactly sure what to expect.

"Put the lid back on the box." Pansy commanded, as she reached back into her bag, to pull out her long, willowy wand. She turned back to Draco, and the now closed box, which she tapped her wand on delicately. She flashed her violet eyes at Draco, excitedly, before closing them shut in concentration. Draco watched her face eagerly, enjoying the way her long eyelashes swept across her freckles.

Pansy suddenly raised her wand arm, and began muttering quickly and unintelligibly under her breath. Her free hand moved gracefully through the air, as though she were dancing, beckoning the contents of the box forward. Draco lurched in his bed, startled, as he watched the contents of the box begin to swirl… the stardust moved gracefully to the top of the box, as the dirt and the seeds layered themselves elegantly along the bottom. Without warning, there was a brilliant flash of magenta light, that was over as soon as it began. Pansy opened her eyes, and looked hesitantly at Draco, who was looking intensely at the box on his chest. Where the seeds and dirt had layered themselves, a miniature field of purple wildflowers now stood, swaying in a self-contained breeze. The rest of the box was filled with a glorious, navy-blue night sky, which was complete with its own constellation of silver stars. It was amazing, to say the least, Draco thought.

"_Wow…_" Draco whispered, as he stared the world he held in his hands.

"I um…. I asked Professor Flitwick to help me with the charm… It's really advanced, but I got it on my third try," Pansy spoke, nervously. She had always been proud of her Charms work, it was her best subject, but she had never been brave enough to share it with anyone. She looked questioningly at Draco, waiting for him to say something. It took a moment, but he finally broke the silence.

"This…. This is incredible, Pans…" he finally stuttered.

"Really?" Pansy asked, looking shyly into his eyes.

"Really….. how did you think of this, I've never even seen anything like this…"

" I just thought…. Sometimes it would be nice to have a piece of the world that was just… _yours_, you know? Something they can't take away," she looked deeply into Draco's steely eyes, "it's your own little world in a box."

They both watched the box, in silence; the flowers bending in the self-contained breeze, and the small, sparkling stars shooting across the miniature night sky.

"There's um…. There's something else special, about it… but you might think I'm a total freak or something when if I tell you," Pansy broke the silence with her nervous voice.

"Tell me,"

"You'll laugh,"

Draco shot her a stern look.

"I won't laugh, Pans. Seriously, just tell me."

Pansy fidgeted for a moment mentally debating whether or not to say anything. A small smile finally broke across her pale face, as she looked at the box.

"Those flowers in there… those are Pansies. I picked violet, because they matched my eyes…." she fidgeted a bit more before she nervously cleared her throat, to continue, "And those stars? They aren't just random stars… that's a cluster, a constellation, named Draconis. It means dragon. But most people just call it Draco…"

Draco smirked a bit, as he realized what exactly Pansy had done.

"So it's you and me?" he asked, still smiling.

"K-kinda. If you want it to be, I mean," Pansy stuttered, her cheeks flushing scarlet with embarrassment, "It could totally just be flowers, and stuff…. I just thought-"

"I want it to be," Draco interjected.

"What?" Pansy asked, clearly flustered.

"I want it to be you and me," Draco said, earnestly, "Not just flowers and stuff."

"Oh… O-okay," a girlish grin worked its way across her delicate features, making her look much younger than she was. Draco liked seeing her like this, her smile somehow made him feel content with the world.

Pansy suddenly became very aware that she was blushing and grinning like an idiot, and quickly moved to change the subject, once again. She reached forward, and lifted the box off of Draco's chest, setting it softly, next to the fruit basket on his bedside table.

"That must not have been comfortable for you…" she muttered, as she started straightening his blankets, making sure that he was tucked safely into the bed.

"I'm fine, Pans, stop babying me," Draco said, grinning.

"I just want to make sure you're comfortable, you look-"

"I'm fine," Draco said, cutting her off again. He grabbed her small hand and squeezed it gently. "Seriously, just sit down."

"M'kay…." She eyed over him, looking to find something that she could help him with, instead of jabbering and making a fool of herself. She grimaced a bit when she couldn't find anything.

"So… how have things been the past couple of days?" Draco asked.

"They've been okay, I guess," Pansy said, thoughtfully, "not much has happened, really, except… well, you know….. the Longbottom kid caught the potions room on fire, again. No big surprise there though, I guess. Blaise and Goyle don't really seem to like me much, unless you're there, so I've eaten with Millie and her group the past two days. They're nice enough, I guess, I just don't really feel like I fit in…. not like I do with you, at least. Professor Snape has been acting kind of weird, too, but I think that's just because he's worried about you…"

Draco listened patiently to Pansy's stories, ignoring her less than subtle attempts to question him about his injuries. Pansy seemed to realize this, as she bit her lip in frustration.

"I'm the one who found you," she stated looking him directly in the eyes, " Did you know?"

"Pansy, I don't want to talk about that, okay?"

"No…. not okay," Pansy replied boldly, "Look, I know that you're the one who got hurt, and I'm sorry… but you aren't the only one involved in this. I think I have the right to know what happened, Dray."

She waited for him to respond, but was only greeted with silence, and evasive glances.

"You should at least know this then," she continued, "I was scared. Terrified. I thought that you were going to die, Dray. I've spent the last two days waiting for them to tell me that I had to say goodbye."

Draco swallowed, hard, as he listened to her melodic voice break. He took a shallow breath, before finally speaking;

"I knew it was you. I knew you found me," his voice was barely more than a whisper, "I heard your voice…"

Pansy watched him, but did not speak. He bit his tongue, knowing that this was not the explanation she had wanted.

"You're right, Pans. You have the right to know….. but right now, I don't think that I'm in a place where I can tell you, yet," Draco said, guiltily, "I'm sorry."

Pansy sighed deeply, but nodded to Draco.

"Thanks… for finding me,"

"Yeah, well…. Somebody had to," Pansy smirked, as she squeezed Draco's hand, and nuzzled her head back against his shoulder. Draco smiled, as he breathed in the apple scent of her hair.

" So I guess this means that I win the prize for the worst school injury this week, right?" he asked sarcastically.

Pansy's brows furrowed in thought.

"Maybe," she replied, "But yesterday, Blaise tripped Goyle into the portrait hole door. Then Goyle turned around to punch him, but he missed, and hit the bricks instead…. He totally broke his nose, and like, two knuckles."

Something about the way Pansy had presented this struck Draco as hilarious. He had sat, bleeding to death on a cold stone floor, and yet Pansy had just, quite seriously, tried to compare his injuries to a broken knuckle. He couldn't help it but to start laughing.

"What?" Pansy turned to question him, her eyes filled with concern, "What's so funny?"

"I-it's nothing," Draco laughed, "It's just… you just… OW!" He gasped suddenly, as he clutched his hands tightly to his chest. Pansy looked down, to see the scarlet ribbons once more wrapping him in their sticky embrace, and began screaming. Madame Pomfrey came bustling in at once.

"What on earth is this racket? Why I-" she too caught a glance at the ruby pool collecting on Draco's chest, "Out! Get out this instant!" she exclaimed, as she shoved a hysterical Pansy back through the curtains.

"No! No, wait please! Will he be okay? Will he be-"

"OUT Miss Parkinson!" Madame Pomfrey gave her one final shove through the white fabric.

"DRACO! DRAY? I LO-"

"_Silencio!_" Madame Pomfrey flicked her wand at the curtains, and silence fell at once, " Now let's see, what have you done to yourself this time?" she asked, irritated, as she uncorked yet another bottle of dittany.

"Was that really necessary? She was just trying to help me."

"Wha- the girl?" Madame Pomfrey inquired, " Nonsense, she was nothing more than a distraction, a noisemaker, really…"

Draco bit his tongue, holding back from lashing out at the healer. He watched her, in silence, as she finished bandaging him, then muttered a robotic "Thanks" when she walked away.

Without Pansy there to keep him company, he was once more locked away in a room that was too quiet, and too white. He turned slowly to his bedside table, and gently picked up the box that Pansy had given to him. He watched for what seemed like forever, as the pansies swayed in their never ending breeze, under their constellation of perfect, twinkling stars. She would never know how much it had really meant to him, to have his '_own little world, in a box'._

"_I want it to be you and me," _he had said. He'd meant it, too. Pansy was incredible, she was the one person in this world who seemed to truly know him better than he knew himself. It just made sense for it to be her, for them to be together…. He loved her, didn't he? _'Don't I?'_ He didn't even know what was the truth anymore… everywhere he turned, another lie piled on, another secret vowed to destroy him…

"_I want it to….. I want it to be you and me."_

The cruel voices in his mind taunted him with his own words, enslaving him in his guilt. He suddenly threw the box, hating it for mocking him, listening to it as it shattered on the floor. He let a single tear fall down his face, as he was overcome with a sickening rage, knowing that no matter what, he had already screwed everything up. No matter what, his life was not that simple. No matter what… he could never truly have her… and they could never truly be '_you and me'….._

_**A/N Hello my lovelies! This wasn't supposed to be a sad chapter... haha it was supposed to be a break from all the DRAMA! But, then, of course, my inablility to write a happy ending kicked in... oops. I guess I shouldn't be complaining, that's the reason that this story is still going! Thank you all so much for your incredible support! Your comments have made me laugh, and smile, and inspired me to keep writing... so I can honestly never thank you enough! THANK YOU! As per usual, I don't own any characters, they all belong to JK Rowling. I'm going to go and find out what Snape is planning on doing to Harry now... *evil grin***_

_**Love, love,**_

_**Johnni Evans**_

_***=D**_


	8. Chapter 8

"_Oh I know, Mr. Potter…But you see, I'm not taking them for a confession. I'm stealing your secrets…"_

Harry shuddered in the crushing darkness of the dorm, as Snape's words purred hauntingly through his mind for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"_I'm stealing your secrets….. stealing your secrets…."_

He tossed angrily in his four-poster bed, as the words continued their relentless hold on his already battered mind. _Stealing your secrets….. stealing your secrets….._ Well that had been obvious. His private thoughts were now swirling in a glass prison, tucked away amongst the trove of treasures Professor Snape held ransom from the world…

_Stealing your secrets….._ But why? To simply embarrass him? Embarrassment seemed too juvenile of a motive for the Professor. But they couldn't be used to seek his expulsion…could they? Harry's attention to the rules had been severely, well…. _Lacking_, since he first set foot in Hogwarts. What from secret corridors, to flying cars… time travel to breaking into the Ministry…. Had he been anyone BUT _Harry Potter, _he would have been expelled long ago….. and now, having nearly murdered Draco Malfoy….. well if that hadn't managed to get him expelled, surely, his other_ actions_ towards Malfoy couldn't do anything… could they?

Harry sighed heavily into the dimly lit room, as he listened to the heavy rhythmic breathing of his sleeping dorm members. Time slipped away in uneven passages, seconds lingering for an eternity, hours passing in the blink of an eye. Saturday morning was approaching much too fast for his liking, as the cloud of dread for having to face his dark Professor began suffocating him. He watched restlessly through the small, slit of a window as dawn's starburst fingers worked their way daintily across dusk's shadowy shoulders. Finally, he dragged himself wordlessly out of bed, getting dressed begrudgingly as he grabbed his school-bag and made his way to the Great Hall.

The Hall was nearly empty as Harry made his entrance. The Ravenclaw quidditch team sat huddled together at their long table, their blue robes cloaking them from the rest of the world as they whispered their tactics to one another, glancing over their shoulders nervously and eyeing Harry suspiciously. Various Professors flitted through the vast room, bidding their rushed salutations to one another as they went about their ways. Harry slowly sat himself to the empty Gryffindor table, wishing desperately that for any reason, he could somehow avoid the looming detention before him. However, after twenty short, miserable minutes of picking at his toast, it was evident that he would run into no such luck. Once more, he gathered up his belongings, and set off down the long journey to the Professors office.

_Click, click, click…_ Harry listened to the lonely clicking of his heels echoing off the stony walls surrounding him. His hands tore nervously at his sweater as he contemplated the loathsome morning before him. There was absolutely nothing that he could imagine that Snape would hold as an equivalent punishment for his attack on Malfoy. And again with the memories….. that seemed to hold more than just punishment in store. By the time he reached the final stairwell before the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, his hands had managed to fray the bottom left corner of his sweater, into a compilation of nothing but string, matted together by a nappy fuzz. '_Might as well destroy __everything__ I touch at this point…' _ he thought grimly to himself. Overly pessimistic, he knew, but at this rate, it wasn't exactly like things were going to be looking up anytime soon…

Harry had become so absorbed in his thoughts, that he hadn't noticed the heavy weezing, and shuffling footsteps behind him.

"_Harry!_ Harry m'boy, wait up a moment, will you?" Professor Slughorn scooted towards him, his hands clutching at his heaving chest, puffing hardly as he desperately gasped for breath.

"P-professor Slughorn, I ha-"

"By Jove, I've been hollering for you since the dining hall! I say, you seem a bit muddled in your thoughts there, boy," the Professor scoffed at him, between labored breaths.

"I'm sorry Professor, it's just that I've got a lot on my mind at the moment…" Harry replied quickly, hoping that the conversation would be a simple 'Hello, Goodbye'. He didn't imagine that showing up late to his detention would exactly help matters out at all…

"Not a problem, dear boy; not a problem at all," Slughorn said, clapping Harry on the back.

"Thank you, Professor. Now, if you'll excuse me I really have to-"

"_As _I was saying," Slughorn cut Harry off, clearly not caring to hear what he had to say, "I was going to ask you to my office for a spot of tea. You seem to have a knack for avoiding my little get-togethers, you can't very well dodge me this time, it's Saturday!"

"Thank you, Professor, but I actually can't, I have another obli-"

"_Nonsense!"_ Slughorn interjected harshly, "What on Earth could possibly be more important than a spot of tea with your favorite Professor, hmm?"

Harry stared incredulously at the haughty Professor for a moment. Even with as worried as he was about his detention, he couldn't help but think that Slughorn had developed quite a mastery for conceitedness. He had still yet to complete a sentence, and time was cutting close for his detention with Snape.

"Professor, I can't. I have a detention with Professor Snape this morning. I'm sorry." he finally managed to spit out.

"Well is that all?" Slughorn almost looked jovial at this statement, "Well, we'll send a quick note his way excusing you, not a problem at all!"

"I… I can't see that being even remotely okay with him, sir. I'm already probably late as it is, I should really just-"

"No, no. No need to thank me dear boy, consider it done…" Slughorn said absentmindedly, once again clearly demonstrating having not been actually listening.

" I wasn't though, Professor, I really need to just-"

"Really, we'd best be off, lots to talk about boy, lots to discuss!" Harry found himself being ushered away from the stairwell, despite his sputtering arguments otherwise. His nerves jittered about spastically, as a wave of nervousness and relief shook through him. If this actually worked… well, _anything_ would be better than having to have a detention with Snape….. but as he had said, there was no way that he could possibly imagine the Professor being remotely okay with him trading in detention for tea…

….

Professor Slughorn's office was very bold, very tacky, and very much an honest reflection of its current inhabitant. Framed photographs hung on nearly every inch of the wall, crooked, lopsided, and some even upside down. From each frame, Slughorn beamed brightly, his arm wrapped around an assortment of various witches and wizards; some of whom donned brightly colored quidditch robes, others in dress robes, posing before the ministry. In one photo, Harry was nearly positive that he saw a young Lucius Malfoy leering at him, pompously, from the thick black frame. His long platinum hair was not entirely contained in his customary black ribbon, and spilled gracefully down his shoulders, framing his narrow face and playing before his steely gray eyes. His resemblance to his son was so striking, everything from his rigid stance, to the way his eyes shifted, glancing at his surroundings with an untouchable superiority….. Harry was gripped with an emotion that he couldn't quite understand as he stared into those cold eyes…. Hatred? Regret? Guilt?..._Longing?_ He shook his head violently and backed away quickly from the photograph.

Professor Slughorn had noticed his strange behavior, but being as self-absorbed as he was, had missed the context or emotion behind it entirely.

"Oh, I know dear boy, believe me, I too am absolutely stunned at how far the best can fall;" he chuckled a bit before adding, "At least I always manage to take the photo before the fall. Has to count for something, doesn't it?"

"Oh…. Um, yeah. I suppose so," Harry mumbled as he continued to glance at the other photographs gracing the walls. No matter who the frames occupied, Slughorn could be counted on to be in every shot. Harry was reminded strongly of one of his previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. Only, rather than make the spotlight about him, it was about knowing that he was the one predicting the spotlight, and being first choice to ride on their coattails. It was a strange, hollow life to live, Harry thought… But the Professor seemed content in his world. Harry watched as he bustled behind his desk, knocking various trinkets and baubles aside as he squeezed his large girth through the limited space. His pudgy hands gripped a fancy, peacock feathered quill tightly, as he scribbled messily across a piece of scrap parchment. He turned away looking wildly around his room until his eyes fell upon a small barn owl, which hooted softly from a perch in the corner of the room.

"Pip-pip," Slughorn clucked. The little owl stirred, and fluttered across the room, landing softly on Professor Slughorn's arm. He gently tied the parchment to the owls leg, and shooed him away, delicately pushing him through the office window.

"Well then," he smiled jovially, " That's that, Harry m'boy! Detention erased and nothing to worry about! Now where _did_ that tea kettle disappear to? Ah! Here we are!"

Harry gave a forced smile, which appeared more as a grimace than anything else. His mind was swirling with shattered thoughts, nothing quite making sense anymore. Fuzzy recollections of his stolen memories played like worn film, blurry images of Draco….. blood…pain…. But pain of what sort? Physical, yes. He had the wounds to prove that there was definitely physical pain. But this pain seemed like so much more… Though the memories themselves were broken, the feelings behind them were impossible to put to rest. He felt as though he were truly being buried by emotion.

"Sugar?"

"Wha-what?" Harry asked, as Slughorn's voice jolted him from his thoughts.

"Sugar, boy. Do you take sugar with your tea?"

"Um… yeah, okay. That'd be okay."

The stout Professor furrowed his brows slightly at Harry, staring at him thoughtfully. Clearly, this had not been the stimulating visit that he had hoped for with the prospective '_chosen one'_.

"Are you okay there, boy?" Slughorn asked, a bit dejectedly, as though he took some personal offense to Harry's strange demeanor.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Harry said, off-handedly, " I'm fine. Really. Thank you. For the tea, I mean." He leaned to drink deeply from his cup, and nearly gagged as his tongue was doused in a flavor that he could only describe as sugar-coated, rotten socks. "It's _great," _ he managed to choke out through his disgust. Slughorn beamed at him.

"Well then, m'boy!" He twisted slightly to settle his hefty figure into his chair, " It seems that you are all the world can talk about, doesn't it! Every paper flashing a photograph of your face, can't make it a moment without hearing all the fantastic stories of Harry Potter! Not that you mind, eh?" he winked sportingly at Harry, who stared back at him, dumbfounded.

"I, uh….. I guess, sir." He stuttered, "I really don't pay much attention to it… it's not like the stories are true or anything."

"So modest, of course," Slughorn chuckled, "Your mother's son, truly. She was one of my favorites, you know? Your Mother?"

"Yeah, you've mentioned it before,"

"Ah yes. Of course. Lovely Lily…. Such a talented witch. She could have gone on to do amazing things if she hadn't…. well, you know. But that's life for you, I suppose. Never guaranteed a moment, are we?"

Harry sat in the uncomfortable moment, letting the air become tense, as he endured yet another spectator telling him his life story, as though it had nothing to do with him. Personally, he felt as though his mother deserved more than to be shrugged off with a simple '_well, you know…"._But he knew better than to make a statement… he had learned long ago that death meant very little to those fortunate enough to be preoccupied with life.

"But the moments we _do _have," the Professor continued, oblivious to the tension, "well we'd best make the most of them, hadn't we! So I ask, dear boy, as a close friend; I would consider us close, wouldn't you?"

"Well, I uh-" Harry sputtered before being cut off yet again by the Professor.

"I agree, I have always considered us to be close. I see myself as a bit of a mentor to you, actually, as it were. So again, I ask you, how is it that you are handling life, being 'The Chosen One' and all? Not an average life to live, I would imagine, but what a life indeed! Certainly, you do know that you can always count on me for advice, I don't believe that I've yet to advise someone wrong!"

Professor Slughorn had a greedy grin upon his face, much like a child anticipating a sweet, as he waited for Harry to reply. Harry stared at him, a bit dumbfounded, wondering if Slughorn ever felt as though he were out of line. As the seconds ticked by, it would seem that Slughorn felt perfectly comfortable with his blatant intrusion.

"Professor, you are aware that those are just rumors, aren't you?"

Slughorn chuckled a bit at this statement, like it were the punch line to a rather humorous joke.

"I knew you'd say something like that, m'boy, but there's really no need to be coy with me! Besides… all rumors come from somewhere, right? Knowing you, the truth is more fantastical than the rumor could ever prove to be!"

"Professor Slughorn…. I hate to disappoint you, but the rumors are just rumors. The _Prophet_ is just looking for a new angle to sell. Last summer, they said I was an unstable delinquent who was likely to join up with Professor Dumbledore and become a mass murderer. I've yet to be a murderer, of do anything '_Chosen'_. The truth is, this is the truth. I'm just Harry."

Professor Slughorn's grin faltered, his wiry brows stitching together as he stated intently at Harry, determined to catch him in a lie.

"But certainly, you have some plan for your life? They've given you something, haven't they?" Slughorn questioned, impatience creating a frantic edge to his voice.

"Professor, '_they'_ haven't given me anything," Harry said, slightly annoyed, "I don't even know who '_they_' are. There isn't a plan for my life. I want to finish school. Grow up. Graduate with my friends. Be normal. I have no intention of being a part of any plan."

"But _Harry_! Think of all the people, the chances, the _opportunity._ You have a unique chance to become something the world desires!" Professor Slughorn's cheeks had flushed ruby red with the sudden influx of emotion, as he flapped about in his chair like a great stuffed bird, "You don't seem to have even the slightest grasp of what lies before you! It doesn't matter if _you _believe you are the chosen one! We have _made _you our chosen one! Embrace it! Become the hero that the world wants you to be."

Harry glared at the Professor for a moment, not in anger so much, rather, simply incredulous at the bold outburst that he had just endured. He had just opened his mouth, not exactly sure what he was going to say, when there came a sudden tapping from the doorway.

"Umm…. Excuse me? Professor Slughorn, sir?"

A small, wiry third year Ravenclaw girl stood timidly at the door, clearly terrified to have to interrupt the Professor.

"Yes, erm….uh…."

"M-melanlie, sir."

"Yes okay then….._dear_… what is it that you need?" Slughorn stated, impatiently.

"Uh…. Well, uh… it's just that… Pr-professor Snape sends his regards… and, uh…"

"Get on with it!" the Professor snapped, thoroughly irritated.

"H-Harry Potter is to report immediately to serve his detention. He is to report to all detentions, on the dot, n-no matter how many tea parties he's b-been invited to." Melanie squeaked, wringing her hands nervously.

Harry stood up quickly, and nodded at the small girl, giving her a quick;

"Thanks."

She tore from the room as fast as she could, leaving behind a wake of tense, dead air. Harry turned slowly back to face Professor Slughorn, who's face had become a deep purple, vibrant enough to rival Vernon Dursley.

"Well… thank you for the tea, then. I guess I'll go, now."

Slughorn sputtered indignantly, and shooed Harry away with a wave of his hand, too put off to be bothered with words as he quickly busied himself with the scattered papers on his desk.

"Bye then….."

Harry stepped out of the office, walking steadily into the empty hallway, leaving Slughorn to his thoughts.

"_Chosen one indeed….._" Slughorn managed to utter into the silence.

**A/N **Oh my goodness my darlings, I am so sorry! I have not forgotten you all, I swear! My life has gotten insanely busy, I am actually in the process of signing my very first **recording contract!** So needless to say, I have had a LOT on my mind! However, things should be slowing down a bit so that I can once again escape into my writing! I know this chapter is short, and not all that exciting, but I can GUARANTEE that the next chapter will be delicious... and then some. I mean, Snape's in control now, right? *=D

Love, love,

Johnni Evans


	9. Chapter 9

It was chilly in the dark room, there was no denying that. But the chill had always been there, following him like an unfriendly shadow, cloaking his every movement. No matter the chill, it did not explain the unsettling tremble that had taken place in his body. Even so, Severus Snape clutched at his long, black robes, and pulled them tighter across his trembling frame.

He paced once more the floor of his gloomy office, the candles flickering in the darkness, feigning nighttime, though the light of dawn had long since graced the sky. The thick, dusty curtains shielded any outsource of light. Severus reveled in the darkness. It suited him well.

From the corner of his office, a soft shimmer danced from a stone bowl, which was filled to the brim with a pool of strange, silvery-green liquid. Memories. The memories of one _Harry Potter,_ to be exact. Severus bit the corner of his thin bottom lip, as a greedy smile threatened to make itself seen. He had poured over the memories a thousand times, it seemed, and yet…..

Another intense tremble worked its way through his body, a feeling so deep, so haunting…. Something he refused to let go of. For years, nothing had managed to work him up like this, and now, he felt powerful… he felt alive. He glanced over to the small silver clock, which sat slightly hidden on his desk, concealed by a muddled mess of parchment and trinkets. Still 20 minutes before Potter was due to arrive… not long…. But long enough. He glanced cautiously over his shoulders, checking to make sure he was truly alone. A satisfied smirk crossed his gaunt face, as he flicked his wand to lock the door, and steadied himself, gripping either side of the small table which held the pensive. He took a deep, rattling breath, as he watched the ghostly images dancing beneath him… finally, he could wait no longer, and plunged himself face-first into the bowl.

The memories of Harry Potter were different than any other memories Severus had ever experienced…Most memories were cold, empty, shrouded in a foggy haze. Yet somehow… Harry's memories devoured the soul with unexplainable warmth; the world somehow seemed brighter, lit with a passion, rather than the sun. Severus allowed himself to simply _be _for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing in the warm air, which was strangely perfumed, and entirely intoxicating… he felt safe, almost content; like nothing could steal him from that moment except for:

"_Draco! Draco wait!"_

Severus snapped his eyes open in time to see the form of the slender, graceful blonde as he strode forcefully down the long corridor, ducking his angled face behind his hand as he swooped into the doorway of the boys lavatory.

"_Draco! Please… hold up! Draco!"_

And suddenly, he was there. Harry Potter came darting down the corridor, his raven hair swept up messily in the gust he had created in his rush; showing clearly his lightning bolt scar. His glasses sat slightly askew on the bridge of his slender nose, which he made no attempt to fix, as both his hands clutched at the school books he was trying to hastily force in to the school bag bouncing upon his hip. His emerald eyes sparkled, as they darted every which way, a certain panic giving them a slightly frenzied look.

Severus stood quickly, rushing after Harry, not wanting to lose a moment in the memory. He watched, yet again, as Harry dashed into the lavatory after the Malfoy boy, and quickly followed at his own rushed pace. He didn't have to rush, he knew…. He had watched this memory play out over and over again, the images had consumed his every thought since he had first acquired them. He knew every second of them; every breath, every heart-beat, every unintelligible sound…. And yet he kept coming back, almost begging to see something he had missed…

He watched, as Harry did, as Malfoy pretended not to notice the sudden arrival of the boy who had been chasing him for the last half mile. He watched as Harry, nervously shoved his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, and made a futile attempt at flattening his hair, catching his fingers delicately into the knots that had worked their way into the raven locks. And he watched intently, as finally, Harry worked up the nerve to speak.

"_Malfoy,"_ Harry uttered, barely more than a winded whisper.

Severus forced himself to glance at the Malfoy boy, his own black eyes trailing the path to where Harry's emeralds were locked. Malfoy jumped slightly, paused a moment, then turned slowly, his pointed face twisted up into a wicked glare which would have sent most fleeing, afraid to see what would happen if they dare stayed. And yet, Harry didn't move. Severus almost had to bite back a laugh, looking at Malfoy's face. The glare was intense enough, certainly, particularly when coming from Malfoy's notoriously icy silver eyes. But people never seemed to realize that the Malfoy's were nothing more than empty threats, backed with money, and a crumbling superiority complex…. None seemed more oblivious to this than the Malfoy's themselves…

'_God, Potter, so you're stalking me now?' _Malfoy did not let up on his glare, he stood positively seething, his shoulders hunched and fingers clenched. _'Shouldn't you be off saving the world or something? Leave me the hell alone.'_

Harry turned his head slightly, looking away from the irate blonde. As he turned, for a moment, just a small moment, his sparkling emerald eyes caught hold of Severus' hollow black ones. Severus paused, his breath hitching in his chest, as though he had just been caught intruding on such a private moment. His sallow cheeks flushed, such a strange feeling to him, as he stepped back slightly…. But Harry stared right through him. His bright eyes ghosted across the dark man, never seeing the shadow who had followed his every move.

'_We need to talk,'_ Harry spoke softly, but his voice articulated an unceasing determination.

'_About __what_?' Draco hissed. He was clearly becoming uncomfortable. Severus enjoyed the sight of panic dancing through a Malfoy's eyes. '_You're all confused because someone abandoned you again? Not my problem, I thought you'd be used to it by now, everyone's favorite orphan. Clearly my mistake, now GO.'_

Severus watched closely as Draco spat his vicious insults. And yet, through it all, Potter didn't flinch. If anything, Severus could have sworn he saw a bit of a Cheshire smile ghosting across the raven haired boy's face. It amused him to see the hint of flickering disappointment in Draco's eyes, as he reached for his blackthorn wand, gripping it close to his side.

'_You started this Draco. All of this,' _Harry inched closer and closer to the Malfoy boy with every word he spoke, backing him into the porcelain sink, trapping him with nowhere else to go. Severus bit his bottom lip, anticipating everything that was about to happen; Secrets blown into the open, with as violent of an impact as the disaster which would inevitably follow suit. It thrilled him, more than it should have... _'You're the one who called me to the Room of Requirement. You're the one who tied me up and whispered in __my__ ear. You're the one who pulled my hair… and you're the one who kissed me. You can't tell me that didn't mean anything…..'_

Even with knowing….. even with watching the memory again and again… seeing it for every last detail it had to offer… nothing could stop it from stunning him. One moment, one very short moment of tense silence…. And suddenly, they were one. Harry forced himself upon Draco, lips crashing, hands tearing at fabric… hair… anything they could reach. It was utterly animalistic. Severus watched every emotion flash through their wide-open eyes, a sparkling array of shock, fear, surprise, lust… and suddenly, as Harry's emeralds drifted shut, Draco's sapphires burned an ice-cold onyx. Pure, unforgiving fury. And his wand was raised.

'_STUPEFY!' _ he screamed, a sound so powerful, it audibly tore at his vocal cords.

Severus watched as Harry's body launched into the air, arms flailing, only coming to a halt when he struck the linoleum wall, his skull cracking against its surface, shattering bits of rock and dust into his raven hair. Harry blinked, trying to clear the dust from his eyes, confusion flickering through his wide eyes. Blood was pouring from the back of his head, in a thick steady stream down his neck; yet the toll of the physical pain seemed to evade him in his current state. Draco stood across from him, a twisted smile working its way across his pale, pointed face. He held his wand was held high, his hands shaking with raw adrenaline.

'_Listen here, Potter. You __ever__ say one more word about that and you can consider yourself dead, are we clear?' _the Malfoy boy hissed as he advanced slowly to a very confused Harry. Had Severus not known what was to take place, he almost felt that he should warn the raven haired boy to run… _'Let me explain to you the events that took place that night, very clearly, so that you may never forget. I entered the Room of Requirement. I had a little game that I wanted to play, which regrettably required another player. You, were the two-bit piece of trash that entered next. I played my game. I won. Got it?'_

The look that took over Harry's face tore at an emotion Severus had sworn to never feel again. Something he hadn't felt for years and years….. something that only a pair of sparkling, emerald eyes could ever make him feel… hypnotized, hopeless, lost and found, complete and empty. Alone.

'_But… You're lying…' _Harry said, in a shaky voice.

'_Oh my god Potter, you don't stop do you?" _Draco laughed maliciously,_ "I wish you could see yourself right now, you look so pathetic. But you still don't get it, do you? You were never anything more than a means to an end, Potter. It meant nothing. I wanted control, and I got it. You meant nothing. I'm done.'_

Nothing could describe the sudden feeling which took over the entire room. As Draco stood defiantly in his corner, sneering, Harry sat against the floor, his eyes flashing as he struggled to find some sense of understanding. He looked defeated, scared and alone. He began to move from his place slowly, as though he were simply going to leave. Perhaps he would have, too, had it not been for one thing...

Malfoy gave one last cold, merciless laugh to Harry before turning on his heel to face his own wicked reflection in the lavatory mirror. He began to run his spidery fingers through his long, platinum hair, becoming so consumed with himself, that he took no notice of the raven-haired man inching his way towards him.

Harry now stood only two feet away from the arrogant blonde. His eyes had lost all their warmth and compassion, they now blazed with a fierce vengeance, demanding revenge. They no longer sparkled like emeralds, they burned like a venomous green acid, threatening to destroy all who dared to cross their path. It sent chills down Severus' spin to see the eyes that he knew so well, pulsing with such raw power...

The Malfoy boy was such a fool.

How, even with an arrogance such as his, could he ever have believed that he could end it all with a simple, hollow insult? Particularly when, in his own frosty eyes, the truth rang out so clearly.

Severus watched as Draco finally noticed the towering figure behind him. The statuesque blonde turned quickly to face his damaged adversary. He barely had time to begin his customary smirk, before he realized he had been met eye to eye with the wand of Harry Potter.

It was as if the memory had been put into slow-motion. Every moment, every fraction of a second played out frame by frame. A steely, malicious glint passed through Harry's black, unforgiving eyes, as he opened his slender mouth to utter Draco's demise.

_'Sectumsempra'_

The spell jetted out of Harry's wand in a burst of dazzling, ruby-red. Draco's icy eyes flew wide with shock, the red piercing the blue, as the magic pierced the flesh. The effect was instantaneous. Blood blossomed out from the gashed in the Malfoy boy's shirt, spurting out in elegant waves of scarlet. His eyes surged with panic, but quickly emptied, becoming a sickly, milky version of their icy blue. He grasped desperately at his chest wit his pale fingers, creating the image of blood upon snow, before his legs finally gave way to the depravity of his situation, and he crashed to the floor.

And through it all, Harry did not flinch.

It was horrid to watch. Disturbing. Frightening...

Beautiful.

A sickly gurgling came from the ghostly boy in the corner, drowning in his own flood of thick merlot. Harry glanced in the direction of the noise, his eyes cold and unforgiving.

_'How... how could you?'_

The words were barely intelligible, as they fought to come out against a surge of blood and foam. But the pain behind them rang out clear. An unnerving smile graced Harry's gaunt face. A haunting, rancorous edge had taken over the warm voice that would have ordinarily replied.

_'I got what I wanted. It was all a game. And I just won.'_

The memory came to an abrupt halt, hiding away behind a suffocating screen of black fog, and Severus found himself being through harshly back to the reality that was his office.

It was all so much.

The memory stuck him deeply, as it had done a thousand times before... but there was just something about it all...

Was it shock? Perhaps. But not at the content of the memory. Anyone with eyes could see the pathetic desperation that the Malfoy boy held for Potter. It was truly only a matter of time before he cracked, the fact that he had made it six years was quite impressive... And the Potter boy himself? His actions weren't so shocking...

It was his power.

Pure, raw, unadulterated; absolutely maleficent. It sent chills down Severus' spine once more to relive it all in his mind... The emerald eyes that he had so often looked to, for a reminder of the girl he once loved... those were not Lily's eyes. Lily's eyes never could have held that much tempestuousness. And the rugged, handsome features that he had stolen from James... twisted into a nefarious mirage, making its forbearer seem like a mockery. No, Harry had become a mystifying, terrifying mutation all his own. It was beautiful.

_He_ was beautiful.

_BANG!_

Severus was jolted from his thoughts by a sudden rapping at his window. He looked to see a large, tawny brown owl, flapping wildly at the window pane, a parcel tied tightly around its leg. He paused for a moment, then strode powerfully across the dark room, throwing open the window and receiving the owl. The letter was wound tightly around the creatures leg, the cord cutting into it's scaly flesh. Severus struggled for a moment to loosen the knot, before finally managing to open the letter.

_'Professor Snape,_

_ I'm writing to inform you that Harry Potter will not be attending his detention this morning with you. I've invited him to my office for a spot of tea instead... finders keepers, right old chap? I'm sure you'll understand, and of course, you can always reschedule for later. Or simply cancel it! I can't imagine he's done anything too terrible, forgive and forget as I always say!_

_ Ta-_

_ Professor Horace Slughorn_

_ Potions Master_

Well this was all too much. Severus stood frozen, seething as he held the letter, crumpled tightly in his fist. The sheer audacity of it all...

Here he was so close, so close to having...to having...

He shuddered.

He felt so strange... days ago Potter was nothing more than an inconvenient reminder of all he had lost. Those damned green eyes tormenting him, framed by James' cruel face... All he wanted then was a moment to finally win, to finally be able to destroy the very last remnants of Potter. But now...

Seeing such a ferocity, the power behind his every movement, his shamelessness, his hunger... It was so intense, so wild. All he wanted now, was to be in control of it.

Severus grimaced at his own thoughts. It was bad enough finding excuses to watch the memory over and over again. But to be having these..._ideas_... about them, about Potter. It was wrong. It was so very wrong.

He wanted it anyways.

He tore from his office, darting quickly out into the candle-lit hallway. Not bothering to look where he was going, he was quite surprised to have bashed into a small, auburn haired girl, knocking her to the floor.

"Professor Snape!" she squeaked, the color draining from her face as she scrambled to pick herself up off the stone floor, "I-I-I... I'm s-so sorry, I didn't see you I was just-"

"Never mind, never mind," Snape said hurriedly, "I need something... a message. You! I need you to deliver a message for me."

"Professor... are you okay?" the girl looked genuinely concerned at the dark Professors erratic behavior.

"Yes," Snape replied distractedly, as he ran his fingers nervously through his long black locks, "You need to deliver a message for me, to Professor Slughorn. You are to tell him that..."

He paused for a moment, in thought, not quite sure how to word his request. The girl stared at him, concerned. As far as she was concerned, no one had _ ever _ seen the Professor acting so... strangely. Snape finally seemed to find himself, and launched once more back into speech.

"You are to tell him... that I send my _regards. _ And further, that Harry Potter is to report to his detention immediately. In fact, Harry Potter is to report to _all _detentions, on the dot, no matter how many tea parties he's been invited to. Is that quite clear?"

"Uh, y-yes sir." The girl squeaked, standing quite still as though waiting for further instruction.

"Well?"

She stared blankly at the Professor, whose eyes seemed to have returned back to their usual cold confidence.

"_What are you waiting for? GO!"_

She ran off quickly, stumbling down the passageway, as though desperate for an escape from the strange scene she had found herself in.

When Severus decided that he was truly alone, he leaned against the doorway, his large eyes closed tight, his hands cradling his head.

This was wrong. This was so very wrong.

His own voyeurism disgusted him.

But his fantasies... they thrilled him.

It was unclear to him why... but he knew, he would never again be satisfied until he had _control_ of it... of that power... of Potter.

He strode powerfully back into his dark office, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his teeth clenched, and his mind set on a course of reckless determination.

This wasn't going to end well.

He wanted it anyways...

A/N Oh my hell... well... this is my last chapter of stalling. I've reached it... that moment... Snape and Harry... I'M SCARED! But it's coming for you all soon... Thank you so much to all my lovely readers, you guys are the greatest, THANK YOU for your patience with me, I appreciate you all more than words! You guys all keep me AND my stories going! Love to you all! *=D

Love Love,

Johnni Evans


	10. Chapter 10

_**Control Room- Part Ten**_

_Breath... Breath...Breath..._

Harry stood outside the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He'd been standing there for nearly ten minutes, too afraid to step through the entry-way to face his punishment. He knew that with every passing second, his situation became imminently worse, but something just felt so... _wrong. _ Not that a detention was ever a good experience, but something about this seemed so much deeper.

He still had no answer as to why Snape had taken his memories.

It sickened him to his core.

_Breath... Breath... Breath..._

Finally, he raised his fist, and brought it down upon the heavy wooden door, dreading every knock that resulted. It was deathly silent for what seemed like an eternity, until;

"_Enter,"_

Such a simplistic word, uttered in such a sense that it stretched out, filled with a rich pretentiousness. Harry shuddered, biting down hard on his lip as his hands clenched tightly over his frayed sweater. He took a desperate, nervous glance over his shoulder, then begrudgingly stepped forward.

The heavy wooden door moved forward slowly, giving off an eerie _creak_ as it made way to reveal the classroom. It was incredibly dark. The thick, dusty curtains had all been drawn to a close, suffocating any ray of sunlight that would have dared to break through. The only source of light came from the sconces which hung high upon the walls, their candles melted down to shallow pools of wax, the flames only flickering enough to cast daunting shadows on the walls. Harry moved forward cautiously, afraid of what he might bump into in the seemingly lightless room. He glanced around, expecting to see the Professor waiting for him, yet he saw nothing.

"Hello?" he called out, anxiously.

The room stayed deafeningly silent for a moment, only the high-pitched buzz of nothingness to fill his ears. Then suddenly, there was a thunderous crash from behind him, as the wooden door was slammed shut, entombing him into the blackness.

It was all a bit dramatic, Harry thought, but effective nonetheless. There was no denying the sense of impending doom which was instilled by the gloomy scenery. The silence had returned, leaving Harry senseless, wading in a sea of vast emptiness. He truly had no idea what the dark Professor had in store for him...

He reached his hands out blindly into the sinister darkness, trying to feel his way forward, to get any idea of what might be awaiting him in the classroom. His delicate seekers-fingers had just brushed across the surface of what felt to be a student desk, when the black-velvet voice slithered out from the corner of the area.

"You're late, _Mister Potter."_

Harry jumped at the sudden intrusion of sound. He glanced around hoping for the darkness to vanish, but was still only greeted by inky nothingness.

"I uh... I was with Professor Slughorn, sir..." he mumbled, not sure where to direct his words.

"I trust you received my reply to the Professor's ..._lovely _ invitation," Snape's voice purred, filling the room with it's capriciousness.

"Yes,"

"_Lovely,_" the Professor restated.

The room stayed tense and silent for a moment more, the only sounds being the shallow breaths from the beings lurking in the dark. Harry fidgeted awkwardly with his already frayed sweater, the strings falling into a soft, downy pile in his palm. At this rate, by the end of the day, he'd be walking out with only his undershirt...

"Sit _down,_ Mister Potter."

Harry fumbled about in the darkness, his fingers reaching back for the surface of the desk that he had previously brushed against. He caught the corner, and felt his way gently around it, slowly easing himself into the chair behind it.

The tense silence was momentarily broken by the sound of a wand swishing through the air. The intense lightlessness was suddenly illuminated by an amber wave that floated from it's origin in the corner to the ceiling. The shadows which had loomed on the wall were vanquished by the celestial beams which shot to the candles in the sconces, creating within them a flame which caressed the glass colanders that trapped them.

Harry averted his eyes to the corner of the room, where the light had been born. Standing there was a dauntingly tall figure of a man. His onyx robes trailed to the floor, the hems sweeping against the snaking grooves of the old stone . His alabaster skin stood as a perfect blank canvas to the frightening obsidian eyes which glared at him from behind the veil of charcoal hair, which framed his sallow face. Severus Snape looked positively lethal, seething as his fist gripped tightly around his long, black wand.

Harry shrank back against the desk, trying to put as much space as he could between himself and the Professor. Anywhere but here would still not be enough distance, he thought glumly to himself. He slowly took his fingers from their customary place of shredding his sweater, and placed them on the desk, drumming them softly against the worn wood; waiting for any type of instruction from the Professor. Snape continued to glare menacingly from his corner. The silence had become sufficiently awkward.

"So...erm," Harry mumbled, glancing nervously at the Professor, " I...uh... What is my detention?"

Snape simply continued to stare at him, only moving to cock an eyebrow questioningly at Harry, who immediately turned his eyes back to his desk.

"Rewriting the detention slips, _Mister Potter._" the Professor replied, barely more than a whisper.

"I'm sorry... what?"

"Are you entirely daft, _Mister Potter?" _ Snape drawled out in his elegant, demeaning tone, "You will be rewriting the detentions slips. Mister Filch has collected a substantial amount of slips over the years. Time has eaten away at the paper, and faded the ink. You will find the damaged cards, and rewrite them onto new cards;" he flicked his wand effortlessly, causing the boxes of cards to appear on the desk beside Harry. "Is that quite clear?" he leered at Harry, his dark eyes glinting with an unceasing malice.

"Yes, sir..." Harry mumbled, turning to face the stack of cards on his desk.

...

* * *

><p>Nearly two hours had passed in the tense silence, only the sounds of breathing, and of Harry's quill scratching across the parchment to keep the inhabitants of the room company. The work was incredibly dull, mostly the odd-doings of the Weasley twins accompanied by their best friend, Lee Jordan. A few fire-crackers here... a fanged-frisbee or two there... a stolen toilet lid... Harry had to grin a little at the last one. It was rather monotonous work, but every so often, he caught a jolt at the sight of a familiar name; Sirius Black, Remus Lupin... James Potter. It was a small comfort to him, seeing the names of his past written down as trouble makers...It made him feel as though somehow, he was able to follow in their footsteps.<p>

"You may stop, _Mister Potter,"_

Harry jumped slightly at the Professors voice. He stacked his remaining cards together and rearranged them in their container, clearing his space before looking up. Professor Snape seemed not to have moved an inch in the two hours he'd been there. He still stood, arms crossed, and eyes glinting in the far corner of the room. Harry glanced at him questioningly, asking silently for an excusal. He received nothing.

"So... uh... we're done, then?" He finally asked, unsure of what he should be doing.

Snape continued to stare at him, not uttering a word. Harry slowly looked back down to the desk, his hands returning to his sweater, fraying the yarn even more. He was so tired of being locked in rooms where he was unwanted. Ron and Hermione were still angry with him, so even once he got out of here, if ever, it wasn't like the silence would come to an end. He was tired of constantly having to pay for his mistakes, it seemed to him that he had more than paid his dues...

The tension in the room was unbearable.

Snape's eyes followed his every movement, watching him like a hunter watches its prey... unblinking, trapping him in a glassless cage. Needless to say, it was uncomfortable...

_Breath... Breath... Breath..._

He dared himself to look back up. He slowly lifted his head, glancing into the corner from beneath his long, dark lashes.

Damn.

There was no end to this.

"Erm... was there something else I was supposed to do today...?"

Professor Snape merely blinked.

Even his blinking was ridiculously drawn out.

Stupid git.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then...?" Harry said, slowly easing himself from his chair, hoping to leave the room.

"Sit _down, _Mister Potter."

Harry grimaced, and sat himself begrudgingly back down into the old wooden desk. He folded his slender arms across the desks surface, and buried his face into them, hiding himself away from the vulture of a man that sat before him. Time continued to pass slowly, the endless minutes in the deafening silence...

"Tell me about Mister Malfoy."

Harry jerked back to a sitting position quickly at the startling intrusion of the voice. His glasses had been knocked askew from leaning against his arms, and his hair stood up in strange ruffles. He hastily ran his fingers through the dark locks, flattening them against his head, and pushed his glasses straight against his thin nose.

"What?" Harry asked, not sure that he had heard the Professor correctly.

"_Mister Malfoy, _Potter. Tell me about him."

"I... I'm not sure I understand, sir."

"Come now, I think it's _obvious_ to both of us that you understand quite clearly."

Harry was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Why did the Professor want him to talk about Malfoy? He had the memories, wasn't that proof enough of his actions? Did he really need for him to spell them out?

"I, uh... I don't remember much of what happened sir. You have the memories."

Snape simply smirked, his eyes glinting with his hidden agenda.

"Ah, yes..._ I have the memories;"_ he purred, as he began to saunter forward towards Harry, "_Such_ a pity that you can't seem to recall any of them. They're really quite... _interesting."_

He now stood directly in front of the boy; his long, slender hands petting one another across his chest, while still gripping tightly to his wand. His wicked smirk remained in place, showing off clearly each one of his pearlescent fangs with every word he spoke.

"Yes..._Such a pity..._," he dipped one of his hands into his robe, his eyes glinting madly, "Perhaps _this _could help you?"

He withdrew his hand from his robe, clutching something firmly within them. His liquid-night eyes flashed malevolently, as he turned his occupied fist to the sky, loosening his grip one pale finger at a time, releasing his treasure as slowly as possible. From his hand flowed a waterfall of dark, silken fabric. It cascaded majestically into a pool of black on Harry's desk, the fabric giving a soft glimmer in the low-light.

"_Well...?" _Snape hissed.

Harry looked cautiously into the Professor's wicked eyes. Snape caught his eyes immediately, and merely gestured towards the fabric on the desk. Harry reached forward slowly, his mind clouded with uncertainty, as his trembling hand finally reached the piled cloth.

It was a blindfold.

Not _a_ blindfold. _The_ blindfold. The same blindfold that had left him visionless in the Room of Requirement...

Harry dropped the cloth in a panic, pushing himself away from the desk, staggering to his feet and backing into the wall.

"S-sir?"

"Ah... so you do remember;" Snape growled, his eyes changing from their soulless emptiness to a frighteningly wild ferocity.

Harry glanced nervously around the room, searching for an escape, knowing that this was wrong, this was so wrong...

Snape inched towards him, his cloak billowing malevolently behind him.

Harry continued to press back, though he was already quite molded against the wall. His hands searched desperately for a freedom that was not there.

_'Damn, damn, damn!'_

The wicked Professor had him cornered, and he knew it. Harry shuddered, his hands growing clammy, as he bit his lip in a nervous frustration. Snape now stood only mere inches away... Harry could smell the man's strange musk, and count every line that framed his murderous eyes...

This could not be happening.

Harry's mind ran wildly, searching desperately for an explanation, _anything_ to explain the madness in his Professor's eyes...

This. Could. Not. Be. Happening.

"P-professor, I think I ought to leave, I ca-"

"_SILENCE!" _ the Professor spat, his words whipping Harry's face in their closed proximity, as his long arms reached out, trapping Harry in their cage against the wall. " Now then, _ Potter... _ why don't we see _how much_... you recall."

Harry was taken aback by shock as the Professor descended upon him, savagely, his brute force knocking the wind out of his chest. His slender shoulders were seized by Snape's strong hands in a painfully tight grip, as the flesh on his neck was suddenly pierced by a set of sharp teeth.

"OW! What the hell- " Harry shrieked, caught up in the sudden pain, "Get off of m-"

Snape suddenly removed one of his hands from Harry's shoulder, only to place it viciously across his mouth, silencing his protests. Harry thrashed furiously under the Professor, fighting against the fingers that were trespassing the contours of his body, claiming bits of him that were not theirs to claim. His screams of pain and anger were nothing but muffled cries under the slender fingers which trapped his voice, going completely unnoticed by the man who had buried his pointed face into Harry's neck, his deceitful tongue snaking out to taste the dewy flesh, his jagged teeth tearing violently across his skin, piercing him, marking him as an unwilling prisoner, flawing him with their insatiable greed.

With his free arm, Harry swung a fist aimlessly at Snape, but barely made contact with his backside. Snape growled fiercely at Harry's attempted attack, as he snatched his swinging arm, twisting it harshly behind his back, spinning him and throwing him face first to the floor.

Harry groaned as he hit the concrete, in too much pain to push himself back up. Snape laughed softly, as he lowered himself to his knees beside the raven-haired boy.

"Really Potter, is that all the fight you've got?"

Harry moaned softly, his head splitting, and his wrists throbbing from trying to break his fall. He pushed himself up, slowly, onto his elbows, only to be forcefully shoved back down.

"Oh, I think _not, _Mister Potter," Snape snarled into Harry's ear, as he pressed his long hands onto his back, holding him down.

"_Get...off..."_ Harry moaned, gasping for breath under the weight of the Professor.

"_Hmmm..._," the Professor purred, leaning his face to Harry's, his long nose caressing the boy's raven hair, his lips brushing against his ear. "Now let us think, for a moment here..."

Harry shuddered as he felt the long fingers work their way under his shirt, raking their scraggly nails along the trail of his spine, down to his waist, gripping his hips brusquely , painfully. Harry gasped, a sharp intake of breath, this was too much, this was going to far... this was _wrong._

"If memory serves us right... or rather, _me, _right..." Snape continued, his hot breath teasing Harry's ear, nauseating the boy with it's sickly, intoxicating scent, "It seems that you were supposed to learn a ... _lesson, _the last time you found yourself in this _situation..._ Manners, I believe it was. It would seem to me that you still haven't learned."

He suddenly flipped Harry roughly onto his back, straddling his waist with his own strong legs, one hand on the boy's chest, the other gripping his chin tightly, forcing him to look into his cruel, dark eyes.

Harry winced in pain, trying his damndest to turn his face away from the monstrous man holding him captive. Snape barred his teeth in a threatening sneer, his obsidian eyes flickering with his wild derangement. The older man leaned his face slowly back into Harry's neck, holding him down easily, despite the boy's struggles. His lips left a bruising trail from Harry's collarbone, to the soft spot of skin just beneath his ear. He took the lobe fiercely with his teeth, squeezing it between his fangs and sucking the blood to the surface.

"_OW! _ God, stop it! Just STOP!" Harry yelled as he tried to fight off the man pinning him to the floor. He thrashed angrily under Snape, twisting as hard as he could to try and fight his way to freedom.

"Oh _no, no, no, _Mister Potter," Snape snarled, "It would seem that you've forgotten _everything." _He moved a strong hand to the boy's thigh, his long fingers teasing just a bit higher. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and continued to fight against it. "Now, let's try and get you to remember what you were taught... as I recall... all you have to do is say '_please'." _

Harry's eyes flew wide, as he was struck with true fear. He looked into the unforgiving eyes of his Professor, realizing that he had _no _ intentions of stopping his attack. Snape sneered once more, victoriously, before overtaking the boy once more. His strong hands ripped at Harry's clothes, tearing the sleeve off his sweater, clawing at the fly of his trousers. His teeth tore into the flesh of his exposed shoulder, marking him and drawing blood. Harry screamed, swinging his fists every chance he got, only to have them caught and twisted, allowing him to be thrown around like some sort of sick rag-doll.

"Stop! _STOP IT! _God, just stop!" he yelled over and over again, his voice growing hoarse. The demented man seemed not to care about Harry's cries, if anything, they encouraged him, his hands moving rougher and grabbing tighter to places he should have never dared.

"_Just stop...just stop!"_ Harry whimpered, angry, pain-driven tears welling up in his emerald eyes.

Snape paused momentarily, as he met Harry's teary eyes.

Lily's eyes.

"_Please_," Harry begged him, "_Please just stop_."

Snape froze. He looked at the scene before him, his own robes disheveled, his face adorned with blood. The boy he had pinned to the floor, clothes torn and tears in his eyes, being held to the ground by _his _own hands...

This was wrong. This was so very wrong.

He moved himself off the boy slowly, crawling into a dark corner before forcing himself to stand. He watched from the darkness as Potter dragged himself to standing, leaning against a desk for support. Already the bruises had set in his porcelain skin, blood crusted the welts of where he had been pierced with Snape's sharp teeth. He began to feel sick as he watched the boy redress himself, trying to repair the clothing that had been so savagely torn from his body.

Harry felt the soulless eyes watching him from the shadows. He turned haltingly to face the corner where the Professor had slithered off to hide.

"You're a monster. You know that, don't you? You are a _sick_, perverted _monster."_

Harry waited in the silence for the man to say something, _ anything._

But Snape said nothing.

Instead he hid in his corner, watching the boy, trying to understand himself... trying to understand how he could have brought himself to hurt, to destroy what held the last piece of Lily Evans. He nearly felt sorry... until;

"_Coward."_

That one word destroyed any thought of Lily. That was not the last piece of the girl he loved. That was the never-ending reminder of the man who had destroyed his life.

James.

Harry's back was turned as he walked towards the door to escape the classroom. He had nearly made it, too. He had come so close to escaping it all, had it not been for-

"Potter. It seems you've forgotten something."

Harry turned.

He turned just in time to see the man slither out from the darkness, a wicked sneer set on his gaunt face, his long black wand held high. Harry's emerald eyes sparked with panic, his hands desperately reaching for his own wand. But he was too late.

"_Obliviate,"_

* * *

><p><em>AN I would just like to thank everyone who has stuck with me on this... strange... story adventure! I really appreciate all of your guys' continued support!_

_Love to you all,_

_Johnni Evans_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Control Room- Part 11**_

"_Come on now, Mister Malfoy, let's not waste the day away!"_

Draco Malfoy twitched in his sleep, the shrill voice piercing through the foggy haze of his dreams, but not yet jerking him into consciousness. He groaned softly, rolling over onto his stomach and tugging the knobby white bed sheet above his head. All he wanted was a few more moments... just a few more moments of blissful nothingness. He felt the comforting wave of deep slumber washing over him, caressing his mind with nonsensical fantasies. He was so close to submitting himself to sleep's domineering hand, to allow himself to be tied down by blankets and smothered by non-reality, when,

"_MISTER MALFOY!"_

The curtains to his room were ripped open, sunlight flooding through, destroying the darkness. Madame Pomfrey swooped into the room, like a great, ferocious bird, ripping at everything in her path, including tearing back the sheet which covered Draco's pale face.

Well, damn. No chance for sleep now...

"Honestly, boy. Do you have any intention of waking at _all _today?"

"_ Why?" _Draco groaned, squeezing his eyes tightly against the sun, his slender hands fumbling around blindly for the blanket that had been stolen away from him, desperate to hide himself away, once again, from the world outside. "It's not like I'm doing anything... lying in a bed and trying not to bleed out, how exciting."

"Well, you've never been known to spare the drama, have you? Guess I shouldn't be surprised, you foolish boy, don't you remember? You're to be released today!" Madame Pomfrey clicked her tongue impatiently as she continued her whirlwind attack on the room, flicking her wand to create a sense of order in the disarray that had been brought by Draco's extended stay. He had been there for the better part of 2 weeks, with nothing else to do but toss the room to shambles.

"Oh..." he mumbled, pulling himself to a sitting position, "But... uh... what about the, uh, the wounds? They haven't healed completely...?"

Madame Pomfrey turned her stern eyes onto Malfoy, concerned at his sudden distaste for being discharged. Malfoy's ears burned a bit at the intensity of her gaze... It wasn't that he didn't want to leave, god only knew that he'd had enough of the sterile white room... but it was the nagging sensation of, at least he wasn't _out there._ He had no idea what to expect in the halls of Hogwarts anymore... His life had become such a tangle of secrets and lies, _he_ hardly knew what to constitute as reality. All he knew with any certainty was that his problems had probably _not _managed to pull a disappearing act...

"No, not completely, but they've healed well enough," Madame Pomfrey dragged Draco from his bed, to a standing position, flicking at his hospital gown and bandages with her wand, making them vanish. Draco shuddered from the sudden chill due to his lack of clothing, feeling more exposed than he would have wished, with only his briefs to cover him. "Of course, you'll have to stop in twice a week for bandage changes, but you should fare well enough. Seems a waste to keep you trapped in here, when you've got your stud-"

"_DRACO!"_

Madame Pomfrey's lecture was interrupted by a high-pitched squeal from the doorway.

"Oh good lord," the healer muttered, as she was pushed brusquely aside by a willowy brunette.

"Dray! I'm so happy, you'll be back today, you've no idea how much I've missed yo-..._oh," _Pansy Parkinson blushed deeply, a furious red flooding her face as she realized that Draco was nowhere near dressed; and seeing his injury exposed for the first time. Draco shifted awkwardly, having nothing to cover himself since Madame Pomfrey had done away with all his blankets. He wasn't sure what embarrassed him the most... his lack of clothing, or the horrific streak of jagged scars which marred his snowy flesh. There was nothing he could do to hide away the angry red lesions that tattooed his skin... he hated it. He felt flawed, untouchable, like the ugliest human alive...

"Miss Parkinson, perhaps _now_ you can understand why we have a waiting area?" Madame Pomfrey turned her fierce gaze onto Pansy, who was shrinking against the wall. Draco was met with the strong feeling that the healer had developed a deep disliking for the flighty girl in the past week. He couldn't say he blamed her... Pansy could be a bit overwhelming. She meant well, but her well meaning was often expressed with a lot of...well..._ excitement_. And excitement seemed to be about the most offensive thing in the world to Madame Pomfrey. "Might I suggest that you find your way there? Or perhaps I could find your head of house, since you seem so keen to ignore my instructions."

"N-n-no, no, I... I-" Pansy stammered, shrinking away from the angry healer, and staring at Draco's scars as though they made him some kind of monstrosity, "I'll go... I... I'll... I'll see you later, Draco." and she tore from the room, clearly terrified from all that she had encountered. Draco's stomach dropped like a rock. He knew it was more than just the healer's harsh words that had driven Pansy away... the look in her eyes had said it all. She hadn't run away from Madame Pomfrey... she had run away from _him_.

"Well then," the middle-aged woman bustled to the curtains, yanking them back to a close, foregoing the use of her wand, then turning back to face Draco. Her brows furrowed as she saw that he had returned to sitting on his bed, his face buried in his hands, his spidery fingers twisting into his platinum locks.

"Mister Malfoy...?"

Draco sat frozen in his seated position for a moment longer, the only movement being his fingers tightening into his hair. Finally he sat up, slowly. Madame Pomfrey was startled to notice that his eyes had a burning red glow, as though he were fighting the urge to cry.

"I'm always going to look like this," Draco hissed, his teeth clenched together, his hands still clutching at his hair, " They're never going to go away, are they? I'll always look like... like some repulsive _freak,_"

Madame Pomfrey looked taken aback by Draco's sad statements. She wasn't used to dealing with the emotional aspects of healing... usually things such as sorrow and worry were taken care of by the insolent visitors who disrupted her work. It seemed especially strange that someone with as much prominence as the Malfoy boy would even display an outward emotion. Yet there he sat, his fingers tearing apprehensively at his hair, as his grievous eyes stared numbly into hers; clearly he was awaiting a response.

"Well, Mister Malfoy..." she began, softly, "They _are _curse wounds. Given enough time, the essence of dittany should completely cauterize the openings, and they should cease to bleed. Already we've seen progress on that..." she trailed off, knowing that she was simply providing her medical opinion, and not expressing the comfort that the boy sought out. This was all so strange to her... "Perhaps in time we can find a solution to fade the damages... who knows? Healers are always creating new potions, I've seen amazing things at work. And besides, it isn't really anything to worry about. The scars really aren't that ba-"

"_Don't. _Just don't," Draco said, raising his pale hand as a gesture of silence.

Madame Pomfrey's brows knit together in concern, but she simply nodded, resigning herself to silence. She knew there was nothing that could be said to appease the distressing thoughts racing through Malfoy's mind. Nothing but cheap white lies, which he clearly wasn't interested in hearing. She couldn't blame him.

Gently, she lifted him off the bed, and took to daubing his wounds with the essence of dittany. She pretended not to notice his gentle hissing as the oil seared at his flesh, allowing him to have some sort of dignity. Once more, the white bandages were wrapped tightly around his rib cage, tighter than usual to make accommodations for the shirts and pants he would be dressing in, rather than the spacious hospital gown. Draco dressed in silence, as Madame Pomfrey gathered his belongings, folding them neatly, and setting them in a small stack at the foot of the cot. Draco gathered them quickly, nodding a brief farewell to Madame Pomfrey, half-heartedly agreeing to her reminders that he had to stop in twice a week, before dashing out to the waiting area.

Pansy wasn't there.

In his heart, he knew he hadn't expected her to be. It was just a hope... But that was just it. Hope. Hope, which was nothing more than a master of deceit, a devil which filled the mind with pointless illusions, only to crush the heart when they proved to be empty lies.

Hope was a bitch.

He clenched his teeth together, grinding them in frustration. He should have known something like this would have happened. Pansy had always been shallow, he knew that more than anything else. It was the thing that he hated the most about her, what had always caused him to push her away... but for the first time in his life... he'd _needed _someone. And she had been there. Part of him had grown to truly care for her...the fact that she trusted him, that she could love so fiercely, so instantaneously. Funny that her love should leave just as fast...

Draco forced himself to stand with the stance of a proper Malfoy, his back perfectly straight, chest thrown out and head held high. His elongated posture tugged at his injuries, stretching the seared flesh uncomfortably tight, threatening to tear it apart, but he refused to let himself fall. He took to his arrogant, purposeful stride through the castle, his breath hitching in his chest with every step, as he clutched his belongings close to his side. Nearly two weeks of immobility had left his muscles stiff, aching with exhaustion due to misuse. But still, he forced himself onward.

Everywhere Draco turned, he felt the eyes of the students of Hogwarts gaping at him, whispers trailing him like an unwelcome shadow. He shot daggers from his own steely blue eyes at a group of particularly chatty group of first years.

"_I heard he did it to himself... he wanted to die!"_

_"That isn't true you prat! It was his girlfriend, she caught him cheating and wanted revenge!"_

_"I heard he still bleeds... maybe he was attacked by a were-"_

_"_ Excuse me," Draco snapped finally, rounding on the small children with a vengeance, " But have you something to say to my _face?"_

The first years jumped at Malfoy's words, their faces draining of color as they wordlessly stammered.

"I thought not," Draco snarled, shoving them aside, roughly, with his free arm.

He kept his composure, his supercilious stride taking him to the edge of the hall, before he sharply turned the corner, breaking into a panicky sprint. Pain seared up his sides as he ran, but he refused to stop until he finally found sanctuary from prying eyes in the Slytherin common room. he glanced nervously around the room, thanking the fates that it appeared to be empty. He fell back against the door, his eyes squeezing shut as he struggled to catch his breath, his muscles screaming in protest at their forced use. Finally, he willed himself to slowly make his way to the fireplace, slumping unceremoniously into the throne-like armchair which stood before it, tossing his belongings to the floor.

His icy eyes trained themselves to the flickering flames which danced in the fire place. It stuck him, quite suddenly, how dark the Slytherin house was, even midmorning. He glanced towards the window, wondering if he had somehow been blind to the sunlight, but saw nothing but the hazy green light which always seeped in. Did everything here have to be so dark and grim? It seemed to him that the Slytherin stereotype had become forced upon, rather than earned by the house's inhabitants. Hard to be anything but sullen, when you never saw the sun...

What was becoming of his life, of _him? _ Had he really been reduced to running away from a few bullying words like some simpering coward? It wasn't as if he was used to being gossiped about... he was a _Malfoy_ for gods sake, if he wasn't being talked about, he was doing something wrong. No, it was more than just simplistic words... it was this constant _unease. _The sickening feeling of always being where you don't belong...

Usually he just ignored it.

But it's rather hard to ignore when you don't even belong in your own mind.

He sank lower in to the chair, careful not to tear at his already wounded skin. His head was throbbing, he noticed, probably from his sudden exhaustion.

_'Because, why not?'_ he thought, grimly, rubbing his temple firmly with his calloused fingers. His eyes began to squeeze themselves shut, willing him to submit to slumber, when he caught sight of a shadow dancing down the corner corridor. He peeked cautiously over the edge of the chair, with much of the demeanor of a small child, trying not to reveal himself while catching a glimpse at the stranger in the room. Relief flooded through him when he saw the tall willowy figure of a girl, dark hair swaying though there was no breeze. He stood with a start, wincing at the pain in his sides, but still keeping his composure.

"Pansy," he said hesitantly, as if daring himself to speak. The brunette turned sharply in his direction, her violet, doe-like eyes wide with shock as they met his own icy blues. Her face flushed, as she stumbled backwards, her back hitting the wall.

"Pansy," he repeated himself, "You, uh... you left so suddenly this morning. Is everything okay?"

He felt foolish asking her, of course everything was not _okay_. She had run away in terror from him in the hospital wing, and here she was now, cowering into a corner at the mere sight of him. It sickened him, it truly sickened him, being stared at like his was some kind of monstrosity.

"_Pansy,_" Draco whispered, his inner distress breaking through his voice. He sounded as if her were begging her to respond to him, yet she stood still. She wasn't even looking at him anymore, her amethyst eyes would look only at the floor, shielded from him by her thick, dark lashes. Her cowardice at his presence struck him suddenly, with a fierce wave of anger.

" SAY SOMETHING!" he finally screamed at her, his face burning red and his hands balling into fists at his side.

Pansy finally looked up, slowly, her long hair sweeping gently off her angelic face, as she turned to face Draco. Her eyes burned red with tears, making the purple irises look like a startling maroon.

"_And what is it that I am supposed to say?"_ she asked, her soft voice shaking with anger. It was Malfoy's turn to remain silent, as he stared at Pansy.

"WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME SAY?" she shrieked, the tears flying wildly from her maroon eyes as she tore herself away from the wall.

"I-I.. I don't know," Draco stuttered, alarmed at her response, "I don't know, I jus-"

"You don't get it, do you?" she spat, "You can be _so _self-centered, consumed with your own _glory."_

Draco chocked over words he couldn't find. Pansy rarely spoke out of turn, and never had anything to say to him but praise... now her words were so harsh, laced with a venom that he couldn't understand. She went on, bursting with an unceasing spark of anger.

"I have stood by your side for six years now, Draco Malfoy. SIX YEARS. I have watched you parade around this castle, acting like you were some kind of _god_, spitting on everyone that you thought was less than you. And do you want to know the worst part? _I joined in._ I wanted to impress you so damn bad that I tried acting just like you. The funny thing is, I always knew that I still wasn't good enough for you. Good enough to be seen next to you, but not good enough to _be _with you. Just a show piece. I nearly gave up. I was so close to walking away, but then I saw something in you. I don't know if it was fear, or sorrow, or what; but it was human. And for once, I thought you might actually need me. And things seemed almost okay..."

"Pans, I-" Draco started.

"_I'm not finished," _Pansy cut him off briskly, "Please. Just let me finish."

Draco nodded, granting her his silence.

"I really did think that things were going to be okay, that I had a chance at being a part of your life... and then you started pulling away again. You wouldn't look me in the eye. You started sending me off... I thought I was lucky then, because if you were sending me off, it at least meant that you had noticed I'd been there at all. And then I found you in that bathroom, dying in a pool of your own blood. And you wouldn't tell me what happened. I've spent two weeks in the hospital wing, at your side, trying to make you feel safe. Instead, you just kept pulling further away from me... and then this morning, I finally saw what you had been hiding from me. You standing there with your chest torn to shreds, looking like you'd just been attacked this morning! And I couldn't handle it... I ran. I ran from you, from your secrets, from all of this. So, you asked me if everything was okay? No Draco, it isn't. It isn't okay."

Draco stared at her, his eyes searching her face for some sign of forgiveness . But he saw none. The Pansy that stood before him was _not_ the simple girl that he had so often shooed away from him. She could not be bought over by white lies and petty compliments. The Pansy that stood before him was strong, she could hold her own, and she hadn't forgotten the way she had been treated.

"What can I do?" Draco asked, softly, "What can I do to make you trust me again?"

Pansy looked deep into his icy blues, searching his soul.

"Tell me the truth," she said, "Tell me the truth about what happened in the lavatory."

Not once did she blink, as she stared at him. He looked right back into her own violet eyes, though not with the same strength that she had. After some time, he turned his back to her, his hand grasping the back of the chair, his head bowed down in shame.

"I can't," he said simply, "I'm sorry... but I can't."

Though he wasn't looking at her, Pansy nodded. Her eyes filled with a deep understanding.

"I know," she replied, lifelessly, "Draco, I can't do this anymore. I don't know who or what it is you're trying to hide from... but I can't keep trying to find you. I just can't..."

Draco did not turn to face her, and instead listened to the sound of her footsteps as she walked away. He heard the portrait door slam shut, and knew that he was once again, alone.

Always alone.

And it was always his fault.

There was only one thing that he felt he had the power left to do. He lost it. He began screaming in anger, yelling about anything and everything he felt. He threw the armchair to the floor, then kicked the footstool to it's side. he grabbed the saucers and mugs that had been left on the side table, throwing them one after the other to the wall, the chimes of the broken glass harmonizing with his antagonized screams. He screamed and shouted and ravaged everything in his path, until there was nothing left. Nothing, but a broken boy, standing in the wake of destruction. And only then was there silence...

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, feeling numb. He looked around at the chaos he had created...

Was that all he was good for? Creating chaos? Was he so doomed, to always live in a world of anarchy?

He couldn't take it anymore. The walls of the common room felt as though they were closing in on him, suffocating him in his own uncertainty.

Once more, he tore from the room, racing down the halls of Hogwarts in search of the one thing he so desperately desired... the one thing he needed, like he needed the air in his lungs to live...

He needed to be in control.

_**A/N Oh my goodness, my lovelies! I haven't forgotten you, I swear! I hope you haven't forgotten me! I spend at least 6 hours a day in the studio every day, trying to get ready for my new album, and when I'm not in studio, I'm rehearsing! I'm going to try and spend at least 3 hours a week writing, so this break doesn't happen again... I PROMISE! I'm so sorry, leave me a comment and let me know if you're still here!**_

_**Love, LOTS OF love,**_

_**Johnni **_


End file.
